


sweet dreams (are made of this)

by dwreed



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Lance-centric, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Post voltron, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture, brief lance/oc, canon divergent from s3 onwards, especially in my fics, klancebb17, lotor as a plot device, where's shiro 2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-27 20:53:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12590316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwreed/pseuds/dwreed
Summary: “It blows, that the negative stuff is all my mind wants to focus on when we had some pretty good times, too. It wasn’t all bad, but it’s just leaving a sour taste in my mouth. Sometimes I-... I wish it never even happened…”The weight of his words settled heavy in his chest. It was a thought that most often accompanied his nightmares, or when he glanced at the long, jagged scar on his back trailing from his right shoulder to his left hip in the mirror. Keith’s silence lingered, so much that Lance wondered if he was still on the line.“You there?”“Yeah, I’m here.”Lance heaved in a deep breath, staring up at one of his posters as he held the phone in his hand.“Sorry. You know I’m not the best with words,” Keith apologized, and this time it was Lance’s turn to snort.“No shit, Keith.”





	1. keep looking up

**Author's Note:**

> you have no idea how long i've been waiting to be able to post this !! finally... finally... i can't wait to never look at this fic ever again after slaving over it so hard. i hope you beans like it!
> 
> As Lance comes to terms with the realities of being home on Earth after fighting a ten thousand year war as a traitor and hero, he struggles to put his time in Voltron in the past. As his disillusionment comes to a climax, Keith’s visit changes the way of mundane life that Lance had been attempting to grasp on to. Sometimes, home doesn’t feel like Home at all.

“There is a fundamental reason why we look at the sky with wonder and longing—for the same reason that we stand, hour after hour, gazing at the distant swell of the open ocean. There is something like an ancient wisdom, encoded and tucked away in our DNA, that knows its point of origin as surely as a salmon knows its creek. Intellectually, we may not want to return there, but the genes know, and long for their origins—their home in the salty depths. But if the seas are our immediate source, the penultimate source is certainly the heavens… The spectacular truth is—and this is something that your DNA has known all along—the very atoms of your body—the iron, calcium, phosphorus, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and on and on—were initially forged in long-dead stars. This is why, when you stand outside under a moonless, country sky, you feel some ineffable tugging at your innards. We are star stuff. Keep looking up.” - Neil de Grasse Tyson

* * *

 

Lance had given up surfing what felt like hours ago, opting for lying down on his board and shutting his eyes against the sun, letting the rise and swell of the ocean rock him into his usual, dissociated daze. As his mother had prescribed three months ago, he’d begun to see a therapist. It hadn’t been much help to him. He wanted to talk about his trauma, he wanted to resolve it, find some kind of closure, but he quickly came to the same conclusion he’d come to every time he pondered the topic; talking about his time out in space was going to get him sent to the hospital. 

His therapist, a kind woman by the name Zenaida, had this careful look on her face, like she was trying  _ extremely  _ hard to keep her expression neutral. Lance knew there was no way she wouldn’t be concerned; he’d somehow convinced her that he didn’t remember much of his time away, but had slipped up during a mental breakdown when her grounding technique had opened floodgates he’d forced shut a long time ago. He couldn’t stop shaking, and she spent a long time trying to talk him out of the panic the memories had induced. Zenaida had told him it would be a hard process; dealing with trauma wasn’t erasing it, but facing it. Unfortunately for Lance, this meant that every time he tried to sincerely face his nightmares he started to lose touch with reality, and Zenaida’s training was hardly suitable to help him the way he needed. 

She’d told him to try to start doing things he loved to do again. The prospect of this had only made Lance feel worse, because he missed Blue, and he missed Voltron, and he missed sparring sessions with Keith and Shiro, missed target practice with Hunk, and missed talking to Coran in front of the holomap.  _ Those _ were the things he loved to do. It had taken him about a month of therapy to drag himself out of his wallowing and pick up his surfboard. However, he’d began to put it off again when he did nothing but fall off every time he tried to stand up. He thought it would be easier; thought it would come back with muscle memory, but muscle memory wasn’t enough anymore. Not for the purpose of doing mundane things on Earth.

He felt something brush against his foot just as he heard his little brother calling out to him, paddling out to meet Lance where he was lying with his feet drifting in the water. He carefully pushed himself onto his elbows, glancing into the water to see a jellyfish floating its way casually in the waves. He drew his feet up so it wouldn’t sting him, watching as the current carried it on by. His brother made it to him then, following Lance’s gaze into the water and drawing all of his limbs onto the board, just in case. 

“Mama said dinner is ready.” 

Lance hummed; “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. He saw his brother purse his lips, watching him carefully, as if afraid Lance was going to flip himself off of his board and drown himself. Lance thought that was fair, because he’d been debating it his entire time sitting out here on the water. “I’m fine, I swear. I’ll follow you back in a few minutes,” he reassured. Daniel muttered something under his breath, but Lance couldn’t hear it over the sound of the waves rolling in on themselves nearby, and didn’t ask when the younger boy glanced around for the jellyfish before paddling back towards shore. 

Even though he’d given up on surfing for the day, he’d stayed out in the water because it reminded him of space. He could see the ocean floor from where he was floating, but farther out there was a drop-off, sandy brown turning to black as the water got darker and deeper. The vacuum of space had always terrified Lance; the thought of being sucked out into the abyss without armor or a helmet, sucking the air out of his lungs and leaving him frozen. The ocean was just as unforgiving, if not more so. Creatures and tides and tsunamis and currents... He remembered being dragged out into the deep water by a fast current when he was six years old, his little boogie-board being the only barrier between him and the dark abyss below. A lifeguard had to come and save him in a speed boat, and Lance remembered shrieking and crying when seaweed had tangled into his limbs, bringing a giant squid or kraken to the forefront of his mind. He’d imagined being dragged down, water filling his lungs as he struggled to get back to the surface in vain, all before getting his limbs snapped off. And he would be so deep down that his blood wouldn’t even be visible on the surface. 

Lance had been crying and trying desperately to free his legs of the seaweed for around 5 minutes when the lifeguard came, pulling him onto the boat, struggling because of the long mess of seaweed that had made friends with Lance’s legs and feet. She’d thrown the seaweed back into the ocean, asked if he’d gotten hurt while looking to make sure the seaweed hadn’t done anything to his legs, and then gave him a juice pouch, life jacket, and a blanket as she drove them back to shore. 

It hadn’t taken him too long to get back in the water after that. About two days tops. No matter how scary it had been Lance loved feeling weightless in the water, the slight sting in his eyes when he opened them underwater to see fish, and the gentle caress of the water on his skin. 

He stared out at the jellyfish, and thought briefly about doing something dumb like going out and purposely getting stung by it. Lance wasn’t sure why the urge hit him - he thought some dangerous part of him is desperate for some change, or something to get his blood pumping - but after watching the jellyfish drift away he steered the nose of his board back towards shore and began paddling back. Daniel was waiting for him, sitting on his board in the sand and building a sandcastle. Lance stomped on it, because he was still feeling destructive and didn’t know how else to get it out of his system. Daniel kicked sand in his face. Lance knew that was fair.

Dinner was quiet; it had been for the last four months, since his older siblings left to go back to their lives after the holidays. It wasn’t always  _ tense _ , but it was definitely awkward. Daniel’s excitement at Lance’s return seemed to diminish into a kind of resentment Lance didn’t know the origin of. Perhaps it was just teen angst - Lance remembered being moody at thirteen years old years old. 

Rosalina, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice the awkwardness, chattering away about her school project as she slurped her spaghetti noodles and kicked Lance’s shins under the table. He wanted to be engaged, but he could feel Daniel stewing in irritation next to him, so he eagerly kept looking at the clock, waiting for when he had to leave for work. Finally his alarm went off and he excused himself from the table, rinsing his plate off in the sink before rushing out the door so that he could get to work on time.

Lance was never entirely sure how to feel about working the graveyard shift, when every tourist was out in the streets drunk and the coffee stand was more busy than usual. On one hand, it did provide him with more company and entertainment, but on the other when he was in a funk he wanted nothing more than to be able to watch television on his phone and chug one of the stands signature energy drinks in order to function properly. It was particularly busy that weekend, with an influx of people around Lance’s age, all drunk and wandering around semi-lost. They’d said it was Spring Break over in the United States, and Lance hummed in interest, telling them he hoped they were having a good time before they wandered off and a new group of wired-up college students made their way up to the stand, staring at the menu and talking in broken Spanish until Lance gave in and used his admittedly underused English. They seemed relieved and thrilled though, shoving way too much money in his tip jar as he chatted and made their drinks, waving as they wandered off. 

The small rush came to a stand still, and Lance went about cleaning up the mess he’d made while making the drinks, thinking about Pidge and Hunk. He hadn’t talked to either of them for a while; when they’d come back they’d both expressed interest in going to university and had applied to the same school. Lance wondered if they were on Spring Break as well, and decided that he’d have to call them soon, even though every time he did he had nothing to talk about. At least he could hear their voices, though. 

“Knock knock.” Lance glanced towards the window, seeing one of their frequents waving at him. 

“Hey,” he smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. Finally off work?” He set his rag down and stepped to the window, leaning against the counter. 

“Yeah. I was transferring all my notes from paper to laptop and then I tried to organize them by species and location and-...” She shook her head, curly hair bouncing at her shoulders as she waved her hand and tried to wipe the whole thing from her mind. “I’m exhausted.” Her tired smile made his heart skip a beat in his chest. 

“Want your usual?” He was already writing her name,  _ Thalia _ , on the cup, even before she nodded her head. 

“Actually, surprise me. I need a pick me up.” She looked behind her to make sure there wasn’t anyone in line behind her and then leaned into the window to watch him work. “How’ve you been, though? You seemed kind of down last time I saw you.” 

Lance’s eyebrows pulled together as he assessed the syrups, picking out a few before putting the cup under the espresso machine and leaning on the counter to face her. “I’ve been good.” He couldn’t make himself put forth the effort to make it sound genuine, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when she gave him an unconvinced smile. 

“I know I’m just a customer, but you can talk to me if something’s bothering you.” It wasn’t that Lance didn’t feel like he could talk to her - she was easy to talk to. She came by every night when she got off work, and sometimes they’d talk for over an hour as Thalia sipped at her iced coffee. But the nature of his grief wasn’t something he could confide in her about; flying robot lions? Evil space lords and alien mermaids? 

“You’re more than just a customer, Thalia.” He smiled, catching the blush making her cheeks red as he turned to pour soy milk into her cup and top it with ice before sliding it to her. Thalia took it in both of her hands, chewing at her lip thoughtfully. The silence was tense, but not bad. She seemed stuck on what to say. 

“I uhm-, should probably go. Gotta get up early.” She pointed over her shoulder, stepping away from the window. “See you tomorrow?” 

Lance nodded his head. “Yeah. See you, Thalia.” He pretended to get back to work, but once she’d turned away he watched her leave, flushing in embarrassment when she turned back around to address him again. 

“Message me if you need someone to talk to.” Even though she was smirking it was still a genuine offer, and then she was continuing down the boardwalk towards her homestay. Lance took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair before going back to cleaning.

* * *

 

“It’s pretty crazy how some of these leaders came into power. Cleopatra is my favorite, though, I think. There was this rumor that she snuck into Caesar’s castle in a  _ rug  _ of all things.” Pidge was saying. Lance was trying to stay engaged, but the apathy weighing his bones down was hard to keep off of his face. He really didn’t want to bring Pidge down, because she seemed so excited about all of her classes, even the ones where she didn’t deal with computer science, but even putting in the effort to look like he was excited for her was exhausting.

“That’s great, Pidge.” He ended up sighing resolutely and then regretted it. Her smile was strained and he could see it even through the screen - he was definitely bringing the mood down. “Meet any cute girls lately? I bet there’s a bunch of super hot college ladies, huh?” He clawed at his old self in an attempt to lighten up, but it felt fake, like he was trying too hard. Pidge began to blush though, so it seemed like it was the right move. 

“ _ No,  _ Lance. I told you I’m not at school to meet girls,” she huffed. 

“No one goes to school to meet girls. It’s just one of the perks of going.” Lance rolled his eyes, and Pidge sniffed in disgruntlement. There was silence for a few moments. 

“There is this one girl, actually,” she finally muttered. Lance tilted his head against the wall, a little smile able to make its way across his features as he watched her fidget. 

“Tell me about her,” he insisted, “I have to assess if she’s good enough for the brain of our team.” 

Pidge smiled, shrugging her shoulders and pushing her glasses up into her hair to rub at her eyes. She didn’t even  _ need  _ the glasses, but they’d become a bit of a Pidge staple. Every time she took them off Lance felt like he was talking to a stranger. Not that he didn’t feel that way a little anyways, considering the flowery pink sweatshirt she was wearing and the high messy-bun on her head. 

“She’s in my humanities class. Very smart, always has something interesting and insightful to say. I feel like she would’ve been super useful to us in the castle, you know? Always sitting there and assessing but- not necessarily on the same wavelength as me. In my opinion she’s much more… emotionally oriented while I’m very much analytical. But you know that. So, anyway-”

“Yeah yeah yeah, she’s emotionally intelligent. What’s she look like?” Lance waved her off, not because he was uninterested in this girl but because Pidge was obviously getting flustered and needed a moment to breathe. Pidge hummed, scratching behind her head. 

“Strawberry blond hair, green eyes, lots of freckles. I think she has a boyfriend, though.” Her expression was careful neutral. Lance huffed, shaking his head. 

“I’m sure her punk ass boyfriend isn’t as good as you, Pidge. No one could ever be,” he assured her. Pidge smiled, thankful for the boost of confidence. “You could steal her right out from under him, I bet.” 

“I’m not going to ruin someone’s relationship.” 

“But you admit you could.”

Pidge huffed, pushing her computer chair out from her desk and using her legs to walk it over to the backpack sitting in the corner of her dorm room. Lance watched her rummage for a bit before setting his phone aside so he could lean across his bed and grab the glass of water on his nightstand. 

“Anyways,” Pidge’s voice sounded far away, “Have  _ you  _ met anyone?” He could hear the sound of her chair rolling back towards the desk, and he set the glass aside to pick his phone up and focus his attention back on her. His mind flashed with images of Thalia; her curly hair swaying on her back, her smile every time he had her drink made before she could even make it to the window, the one time she talked to him until his shift was over so that they could get early breakfast. His heart ached a little.  

“I did, yeah. But it’s not even a thing.” Pidge seemed unconvinced, but it was true. As of right now him and Thalia were just close… barista and customer? Lance wasn't even entirely sure if she had friends that weren't her coworkers. He didn't want to make anything of it. “Here…” He brought his feet into his lap, setting his phone aside and logging onto his laptop to open up Thalia’s Instagram and sent it to Pidge. 

“Holy fuck, she’s cute,” was Pidge’s immediate reaction upon opening the link. Lance hummed, watching Pidge’s face as she scrolled. “You’re  _ all over  _ her feed. Are you sure you two didn't elope?” 

“I'm just always on shift when she gets her coffee.” Lance muttered.

“Tsk.” Pidge tilted her head to the side, eyes still on the screen. He could see a photo of him and Thalia in the reflection of her glasses. “... Lance, are you okay?” She asked after a moment, eyes flickering back to the camera to mimic her looking directly at him. His eyebrows pulled together in confusion. 

“Huh?” 

“You just seem… different. Even in these pictures with Thalia you don’t really seem like your old self. Happy but… not the same.” 

Lance was caught off guard, not because Pidge had noticed but because she had brought it up. Over the years him and Pidge had gotten closer, but their friendship still paled in comparison to her and Keith, or her and Hunk. Their relationship was all a flurry of teasing and annoyance; they hardly got serious. A spike of anger shot through him so unexpected he didn’t know what to do with it, heartbeat picking up and chewing at his lip so that he wouldn’t say something he would regret later.  _ Why do you care all of a sudden? You never cared before, why start now? You don’t have to pretend like we’re cool when you’re so far away.  _

“I’m fine,” he insisted, tone clipped. “I have to go.” It came out in a rush, and he pressed the end button before Pidge could reply and anger him further. He shut his laptop and set it aside, turning over onto his stomach and burying his face into his pillow, screaming into the fluff to try to release the tension in his body. 

Even though he wasn’t homesick anymore he still couldn’t sleep. He was wrought with nightmares, images of robeasts and exploding war ships and Zarkon’s face, Haggar’s face, Lotor’s face, his  _ own face.  _ Two months ago, when his boss asked if he wanted to work the graveyard shift at the coffee stand, Lance had immediately taken it up, opting for working instead of dealing with it. By the time he got to sleep on nights he worked he was usually too exhausted to dream at all. He thought it was a good trade. 

After a particularly busy night Lance came home at six in the morning to find his mom making breakfast in the kitchen. He gravitated towards the smell of chicken tostadas, muttering his assent as he draped himself over her back to stare at the food. 

“Sit down, honey.” she insisted, and Lance plopped down at the barstool placed at the island, resting his hand in his cheek and waiting as she prepared a plate for him and set it down in front of him. He was starving, but also completely exhausted, so he ate the food sluggishly, not noticing the look of concern his mother was giving him. 

“Oh, Lance! I forgot to tell you, Marisol is getting married next week. Would you like to come with us to her wedding?” His mom looked up from the stove, and for the first time since he got back he realized her Spanish sounded different from his. 

“Marisol? From next door?” he lifted his coffee up from its place on the counter as she wiped it down.

“She moved in with her fiance a while ago, so I suppose not anymore. But yes.” She hummed thoughtfully then, stopping her cleaning to stare at Lance. He stared back at her, one eyebrow pulled up as her expression softened, fond written over her features as she placed her hand to his cheek and stroked his skin with her thumb. He nuzzled his face into her hand, smiling as she giggled. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“You just did, mama.” 

“Another question, then,” her eyeroll matched his, “Are you okay?” The question wasn’t what Lance was expecting at all. “I know you said you don’t want to talk about it, but you just seem so down lately. Is there any way we can help you? Any way  _ I  _ can help you?” Lance tore away eye contact then, looking down into his lap and unsure of what to say to her. This was territory that Lance didn’t want to get into. “Is therapy helping you?”

“It’s been a long time, mama. I’ve just grown up,” he insisted, tucking one of his knees to his chest and taking a sip of his coffee before going back to eating. Therapy  _ wasn’t  _ helping much, but it might if he had a  _ space  _ therapist, that would believe every word that came out of his mouth.

“You seem sad, also,” she sighed. 

“Growing up  _ is  _ sad. One day I’m going to get married and have to move out and I won’t have you to clean up after me anymore,” he teased in an attempt to get the mood lighter. It worked, just a little, his mother’s expression not portraying so much worry. 

“Married? To whom?” Sensing that he wasn’t going to answer her question she accepted the change of subject, going back to cleaning as Lance sipped away at his coffee, blush dusting his cheeks. 

“Pfft. I don’t know yet! One thing at a time,” he laughed. 

“Why are you blushing?” She narrowed her eyes at him, which only made the blush worse, and then she gasped. “Have you met someone? Oh, I can’t wait to meet them.” 

“ _ Mama,  _ it’s not that serious,” he groaned. “In fact, it’s not serious at all. She’s just a customer.” 

“Ohh, a  _ she  _ this time.” His mom was smirking. Lance hated it, just a little bit. “Whatever happened with that boy at the Garrison? Keith, was it?” Lance had already been blushing but now he was sweating, pushing his food away in disinterest.

“I’m going to bed,” He evaded, sliding off of his stool. “Thanks for breakfast.” He wrapped up the remains with foil and put it in the refrigerator before making his way up to his room. He shut the door behind himself and heaved a heavy sigh, staring at the walls; they were covered in various posters, some retro of  _ Star Wars _ and  _ Star Trek _ , others more recent like _ Space Odyssey. _

There was a definite theme, even with the colorful quilt on the bed, the colors and stitching depicting the sun in the sky. Lance walked over to his bed, placing his phone on it’s charger and collapsing onto the pillow, shutting his eyes and letting himself pass out, tummy full. 

Next thing he knew he was in a prison cell, slouched against the rock wall and staring through the lasers holding him hostage. He was tired, and hungry, but mostly hungry, his stomach concaving in on itself in his hunger as he watched soldier after soldier walk by without giving him a second thought, even though surely they knew he hadn’t eaten in days. How many days could humans go without eating again? Lance wanted to say two weeks, but going without both food and water would prove him dead. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring blankly through the blue laser bars of his cell, when the hooded man who had placed him in there days previous stepped up to the bars. Lance doesn’t remember seeing him step into his vision, just remembered him suddenly being there. 

“Prince Lotor is on his way here. He should be entering the Xarcadian Galaxy within two quintants,” the man said, and Lance didn’t reply. He  _ had  _ to figure a way out of here before then, but he didn’t have the energy to think of a plan. He supposed that was probably the point of keeping him undernourished.  “In the meantime, we have some business to take care of.” With a wave of a gloved hand the bars disappeared, and then the man was grabbing Lance by the back of his shirt and tugging him to his feet. Lance was considerably shorter, feeling dwarfed in comparison to the large cloaked figure beside him as he was handcuffed and pushed down the hallway. He didn’t have much strength to walk, his feet dragging and leaning against the wall to help him along. 

At the sound of screaming echoing down the hallway he paused, steps faltering, resisting as best as he could when the cloaked man pushed him forward so that he’d keep going. His bare feet skid against the floor as he used what little energy he had left, but after a good five seconds of pushing back he was shoved onto the floor, his knees scraping and bruising as he collided with the stone. The pained groan he released tapered off into whimpers as he was dragged down the hallway. 

“ _ No. No no no…”  _ His pleading was drowned out by the screaming as it got louder, and louder, and louder…

The blaring air horns of his ringtone cut through his consciousness, his heart thumping quick against his ribcage as his eyes flashed open, in a cold sweat with tears falling down his face. He waited until he caught his breath to bury his face into his pillow, listening to Carly Rae Jepsen;  _ stuck in my head, stuck in my heart, stuck in my body body.  _

He huffed, reaching blindly for his phone and swiping to answer it without seeing who was calling. 

“¿Oigo?” He muttered in greeting, voice tired and congested. 

“Lance?” Keith’s voice came over the other end, and Lance’s eyebrows went up in surprise, the thudding in his chest settling down. 

“Yeah… yeah, sorry,” he breathed, “what’s going on?” He pushed himself onto his elbow and rubbed at his wet eyes, brain trying to claw it’s way back to being functional enough to have proper conversation. 

“Nothing, just-...” Keith huffed, and Lance had to strain to hear him; “Had a feeling I should call you. How are you doing?” 

If anyone was aware of Lance’s sleep deprivation and nightmares it was Keith, who he would often bump into at odd hours when they were supposed to be asleep. It still felt weird to complain, since on the ship his frequent restlessness had much to do with homesickness. Now though… 

“I’ve been better, but I’ve definitely been worse.” Was that a suitable answer? It was true, anyways. He thought about sleepless nights with Keith in the kitchen, eating Hunk’s homemade Oreos and making fun of Iverson.  

“You sound like you’re crying.” Blunt, as always.

Lance sputtered indignantly, not sure what to say because he  _ had  _ woken up crying. But he wasn’t about to tell  _ Keith  _ that. 

“It’s okay not to be alright, Lance. You can talk to me.” Keith’s concern was apparent. His family could never understand what exactly he had been through while he was gone, but Keith knew. All of the paladins knew. Lance took a deep breath, trying to brace himself for the impending conversation. 

“I can’t sleep-” Keith snorted, but Lance continued anyways, “and when I do I have nightmares. Hardly even nightmares sometimes, I just… relive stuff. You know…?” Keith gave an affirmative hum, but said nothing. “It blows, that the negative stuff is all my mind wants to focus on when we had some pretty good times, too. It wasn’t all bad, but it’s just leaving a sour taste in my mouth. Sometimes I-... I wish it never even happened…” 

The weight of his words settled heavy in his chest. It was a thought that most often accompanied his nightmares, or when he glanced at the long, jagged scar on his back trailing from his right shoulder to his left hip in the mirror. Keith’s silence lingered, so much that Lance wondered if he was still on the line. “You there?” 

“Yeah, I’m here.” 

Lance heaved in a deep breath, staring up at one of his posters as he held the phone in his hand. 

“Sorry. You know I’m not the best with words,” Keith apologized, and this time it was Lance’s turn to snort. 

“No shit, Keith.” A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though, even in his annoyance. “Where are you at, anyways?” Last time Keith had checked in with all of them he’d been in Colorado, about to go to a Cannabis Club with some guy he’d met while working seasonally as a bartender before heading off to travel again. Shiro almost had a fit in disapproval, but Pidge had muttered something about telling her what it was like as she stared down at her homework in agony.

“California. They have avocado milkshakes. I thought of the time you were telling me about them.” 

Lance was surprised that Keith had thought about him at all, his face flushing bright red and feeling very glad that they tended to avoid using FaceCam when they were the only two talking. “Did you try one? How’d you like it?” He asked all at once, and Keith made a humming noise, not cluing Lance into what he was feeling in the slightest.

“It was pretty alright. I can see why you like them.” 

“God, Keith. Can’t you feel passionate about anything?” The question was dry and hypocritical - the last time Lance had felt remotely passionate about anything had been weeks ago. He hadn’t expected the laugh that came out of Keith in response. 

“It was amazing. The best thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life. Happy?” Lance could hear his grin in his voice. It was contagious. 

“Yes. You’d better like them. I can’t be friends with anyone that dislikes them.” 

“Pidge  _ hates  _ avocados.” 

“Pidge will always be the exception. You’re not good enough for that.”

“Sometimes I actually hate you.” There was no heat behind it, Keith’s laughter full and right from his chest. Lance felt a laugh bubble out of himself, too, setting the phone on the pillow next to him so he could rub at his eyes. It didn’t take them too long to calm down, but one last giggle making it’s way out of Lance set them off all over again. He wasn’t sure how long they were laughing for, but his stomach and sides began to hurt, tears slipping down his cheeks as he struggled to breathe. He’d missed full-bodied laughter, even though it was kind of painful and he couldn’t catch his breath. 

Sometimes Lance wanted to laugh himself into becoming another person. 

“Speaking of Pidge…” Keith trailed off. Lance sighed; he already knew what this was going to be about. “She said you hung up on her the other day?”

Lance wasn’t entirely sure of how to get across why he’d done it. Technically, he didn’t even have to explain himself to Keith. “I don’t know. I just got really angry all of a sudden and I didn’t want to take it out on her,” he mumbled. 

“Angry about what?” 

Lance stuttered; he already knew the whole thing was petty, but saying it out loud just made it feel more real. “I guess just… because Pidge and I were never really that close, you know?” Keith hummed. “And she was asking me if I was alright and…  _ I’m not _ , but some dumb part of me was bothered and bitter that she cared, because she never really seemed to before. But I  _ knew  _ it was stupid to get angry so I just hung up before I could explode on her.” He buried his face in his knees, phone to his ear as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

Keith remained quiet for a while. “I guess I get that.” Keith  _ was  _ the resident hot-head, it wasn’t too surprising that he could understand where Lance’s anger came from. “But Pidge did care about you. I think you really filled a void that Matt left, she didn’t really… take your capture well. At all.” 

Lance shivered, suddenly remembering his nightmare - he wished he hadn’t. 

“Pidge and I are kind of alike in the way that… our biggest emotional outlet is our anger, and work. So I understand why you think she  _ didn’t _ , but she did. She cares about you a lot.” If anything it was making Lance feel even more guilty. “But… maybe it’s good you hung up on her, then. It probably would’ve made her feel worse if you yelled at her.” 

“Thanks, Keith. Very helpful,” Lance deadpanned. Still, he supposed Keith was right. If he  _ had  _ yelled at Pidge about her not caring about him he would’ve monumentally screwed up. Regardless, he’d have to apologize next time he talked to her. “But… without sarcasm this time; thanks. I needed to hear that.” 

“Of course.” He could hear the smile in Keith’s voice; tender, like his voice was soothing bruises on Lance‘s heart. “We’re all just a little worried about you. We’ll back off, but know we’re here if you need us.” 

Lance took a deep breath before nodding his head. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” Keith breathed. “Alright, I have to get to work, but call me or something if you need anything.” 

“Sure. Bye, Keith.”

“See you.” 

Two weeks wore on, monotonous, as Lance worked, ate, slept, and repeated. The one thing that didn’t become a bore was Thalia’s visits to the coffee stand - after being there for a few hours he always started to feel a lag, and her showing up was always the highlight of every shift he worked. Quite frankly, everyone at the stand loved Thalia, because she was a familiar face that always took the time to ask how everyone was doing and hung around a bit to catch up. Most customers just got their coffee and left, which was understandable, but she was the exception. 

With Marisol’s wedding looming around the corner, and his mother  _ urging  _ him to find a date, he found himself in a nervous wreck as he waited for Thalia to show up. The night was unbearably slow, so much so that he was just watching movies on his phone because he’d done all of his shift tasks. It took him a little while but finally he was engrossed in the movie, clutching his energy drink between his hands until Thalia’s voice interrupted. 

“Phantom of the Opera?” She guessed, smiling as she leaned through the window to peek at his phone. “I hadn’t pegged you for a musical kind of guy.” 

“Me neither,” Lance laughed, pausing  Christine Daaé’s voice mid-lyric;  _ to that moment when words run dry. To that moment when speech disappears into silence, silence. _ “Your usual?” He asked, standing up from his spot on the counter and wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans. 

“Yes, please.” Thalia fidgeted with the watch on her wrist, and Lance waved a hand at her dismissively, stopping the drawing on her cup. 

“On the house,” he insisted. Thalia paused, her cheeks going red. 

“You sure?” 

Lance nodded, putting the finishing touches on the drawing before going about making her iced coffee. “How was work?” Small talk. Maybe he should engage in small talk first. 

“Boring. As much as I  _ love _ organizing files I just want to be back in the water.” When he turned to look at her she was rolling her eyes. 

“Are you kidding? Organizing files sounds way better,” he laughed. 

“Mmhm. Want to take my job then?” 

“Hell no.” 

Her giggling sent a swarm of butterflies to beat their wings against his stomach, and as he topped off her coffee with soy milk and ice he tried to gather up the courage to ask her. How come he could jump into battle no problem but asking someone on a date was making him literally break a sweat? It wasn’t even a real date; wedding dates weren’t even an  _ actual proper date _ . “Are you doing anything this weekend?”  _ Just ease into it, Lance.  _

“Nope. Probably just going to kick it in my pajamas and watch some documentaries. What about you?” She gave him a quiet thank you as he handed her her iced coffee, looking at him with big, brown eyes as she sipped at the straw. Lance swallowed, throat thick. 

“Going to a wedding,” he started, and Thalia hummed around her straw. “Actually, uhm-...” He winced, and his eyes zeroed in when Thalia set the straw free and bit at her bottom lip - he had to force his eyes away. “I was wondering if you would be my date.” 

The look of shock on her face made him backtrack. “Not like a proper date just like a wedding date because um-, you know people do that sometimes. So that people don’t think you’re a monumental screw up and have no love in your life kind of thing.”  _ Oh my god, please stop.  _ “Not that I don’t but-. I just-”

“Lance.” Thalia rested her palm on his cheek. He felt like he might puke. “I’d love to be your date.” 

Lance let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He wondered what happened to himself. He’d  _ never  _ had issues asking people out before, and yet all of a sudden he felt like he couldn’t even properly ask out a  _ sex doll  _ much less an actual person. “Cool.” 

“Cool,” Thalia laughed. “Send me the details, then.” 

“Cool.” He thinks his flirting skills have imploded and disappeared into whatever dark abyss his happiness was hiding in. Thalia’s phone started going off then - the smile on her face swiftly left as she looked down at the caller ID. 

“Ugh.” She set it down, looked at Lance for a moment and took a deep breath. “I’m going to take this. See you tomorrow.” She gave him an apologetic smile as she turned on her heel, pressing the phone to her ear. He could hear her answer - but he didn’t want to be whoever was on the other line because he’d  _ never  _ heard her sound so irritated before. 

* * *

 

It would have been more admirable of him to actually resist as he was boarded onto the pod, but that would take the kind of strength Lance didn’t have. His muscles were weak with fatigue, the long blistering scar on his back rubbing against the fabric of his shirt and sending shudders down his spine. The other scars weren’t quite as bad, trailing red lightning strikes down his arms and legs, sensitive but not facing the threat of popping, at least. He complied as he was forced into his seat, sleep tugging at his eyelids as the pod left the dock and made its way towards the monster of a ship that belonged to Prince Lotor. Maybe he would die on the way over; could the druids bring people back to life? Lance hoped not.

He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he was being hauled to his feet and pushed forward, hands cuffed together behind his back as he slumped his way across the ship, slow and limping as he followed the guards in front of him while being pushed by the guards behind him. Once they got to the command center they shoved him onto his knees, and he sat there, staring at Prince Lotor’s back as he tried to fight off the urge to pass out again. He wasn’t in the right state of mind for this meeting on any level; he wasn’t feeling panic, or hatred, or any kind of anger. He was just tired. He wanted it to end already. 

“Blue Paladin, I’ve heard much about you.” Lotor’s voice was a caress on the back of his neck. Lance wondered what Lotor could’ve possibly heard about him, but didn’t feel like asking. Didn’t have the energy to ask. “I have a proposition for you, but first…” The prince turned on his heel to face Lance then, his yellow eyes seeming to stare right through him as he strode over. “Strip him, please.” 

Lance’s defenses went up, then, curling in on himself and protesting as much as his weak lungs would allow him. His hands were uncuffed and he used the freedom to slip onto his bottom and curl up into a protective ball as his prisoner clothes were torn from his form. There was a jarring shock to his system as one of the druids in the corner shot a bolt of quintessence at his form, brain flashing with memories of him strapped to the table of the torture chamber as the bolt of energy blazed a trail down his back. A scream tore at his vocal chords, sobbing as he scrambled and the blisters on his back popped and melded back together to create a long strip of darkened skin. Then the pain ceased, leaving him heaving for air and confused, eyes swimming with tears. Lotor knelt in front of him, placing a blanket over his shaking form. 

“I want us to get along,” he was saying, but Lance’s mind was drowning in trauma and confusion, “but it seems like perhaps it would be best to have this conversation when you are feeling better. Take him to his chambers, please.” 

He was aware of the magic lifting him from the ground, aware of the druid carrying him out of the room and down the hallway. Exhaustion was tugging at his eyelids but his fear was winning out; if his life was going to end he wanted it to end now, before he had to be locked up again and sentenced to whatever torture Lotor had in mind for him. 

But when he heard the sliding doors of the chamber and he was carried inside, it was with welcome relief that he was placed on a mattress instead of the cold hard ground of a cell. He heard the door slide closed and he pushed himself up onto his elbows, rubbing his eyes and looking around the room. It wasn’t just any old bed; he was in a four-poster, with fluffy pillows and a big duvet and… Did Lance die on the way here? This couldn’t be real. 

There was a food tray hovering on the other side of the mattress, and Lance could feel his stomach try to turn in on itself as he crawled weakly towards it. All of it was space food he didn’t know the names to, colorful and pretty and ornate on the plate. Lance briefly wondered if it was poisoned, but decided he didn’t care as he began to stuff it into his face, scarfing it down as quickly as his weak limbs would allow. He ate all of it, even though he felt full after around seven bites, and then quite promptly threw up most of it into the bin resting at the bedside. He guzzled the water, gulps loud as it soothed his throat. And then he laid back, blanket drawn over him as he attempted to get a grasp of what was happening to him. Again, sleep began to tug at Lance’s eyelids, and then he was out like a light. 

When Lance woke up it was to the sounds of a medic drone beeping away, scanning over his body and calculating what Lance assumed was his vitals. There was a soldier in the corner of his room, looking mildly perturbed but not threatening as she stood there. They made awkward eye contact, Lance curling up under the blanket and the soldier straightening out her posture as they remained silent for a moment. Then the soldier cleared her throat, scratching at the back of her neck almost sheepishly. 

“Prince Lotor has requested your presence for tea on the bridge.” She said. Lance blinked at her owlishly, mouth opening and then closing with no words coming out. 

Tea? 

“... Huh?” 

He didn’t feel too bad about being confused, because the soldier seemed to be in the same boat as she gestured towards the foot of the bed. “He has given you a fresh set of clothes, as well. Will you be joining him?” 

Was she implying that Lance had a choice? “Uhm… Sure…” He replied slowly. The soldier nodded her head. 

“There is a washroom through this door here,” she gestured to the door to Lance’s left, “I will tell Prince Lotor you will meet him within the hour.” And then the soldier was leaving, leaving Lance to his own devices. He carefully scooted off of the bed, not even looking at the clothes laid out for him yet as he made his way to the bathroom. His image in the mirror looked awful; gaunt and pale save for the dark scars from his torture. He turned around to look at the blisters on his back, but in their place was a long, dark scar running from his shoulder to his hip; he hadn’t imagined it then. The quintessence must have sped up the healing process, or had just healed them all together. The point was that he didn’t have to worry about them popping and getting infected. 

Lance looked at the large shower; much too large for him, or any human for that matter. Made to be luxurious for a Galra and yet given to him, who dwarfed in comparison. He turned the tap on, watching the water pour before he looked in the mirror again. He hardly recognized himself, hair greasy and bags under his eyes and shoulders slouched. He turned away, heaving in a deep, almost painful breath as he climbed under the hot spray of water and looking at the spouts on the other end of the chamber. The labels were in Galra, so he had no idea what any of them did, but when he waved his hand under each of them they poured out various colored goops. Lance assumed they were the Galra equivalent of shampoos and soaps. Too bad he couldn’t tell which was what. Did it matter, in the grande scheme of things? He supposed he would find out. 

But the shower went without incident, and once he turned the water off a panel in the door slid open to reveal a fluffy, dark purple towel. As he swept it over himself he found that he was dry almost immediately upon its contact with his skin. Another panel opened, and he hesitantly tossed the towel in. It didn’t make any noises in objection, so Lance assumed it was alright. Lance’s next mission was to get into the clothes at the foot of the bed, and he wiggled himself into the tight black and purple fabric. His mind flashed back to when Keith had come back with Shiro from the Blade of Marmora base, a flush spreading from his cheeks to his chest. He shook his head; now was not the time to get reminiscent of his fellow paladins, because for all he knew he was going to walk onto the bridge right into a death trap, and there was no helmet with what Lotor had given him which meant if he got sucked out into space he was a goner. There was another long drapery of fabric, and Lance held it up in confusion, head tilting to the side curiously until it registered that it was a cape. 

Lance laughed. 

As soon as it came out he stopped himself; the sound was foreign to his own ears after weeks of capture and torment, and he could feel his guard drop quickly as the sound emitted from him. It was silly, but Lance draped it over his shoulders anyways, because admittedly the ship was rather chilly and it probably had to do with his own lack of body heat. He tugged the boots set out for him over his feet, and then emerged from the room hesitantly. There was a drone outside, and it beeped and flashed at him before moving down the hallway. When Lance didn’t follow, it turned to him and beeped and flashed again, so Lance took that as his cue to follow it, keeping the cape drawn close like a blanket. 

The trip to the bridge was anticlimactic; every Galra that passed by him paid him no mind, as if he belonged there, and he was unsure of whether to be worried.  _ He  _ knew he didn’t belong there, they  _ must  _ know he doesn’t belong there, and yet they did nothing but continue in their own direction or continue talking to whoever they were walking with. The bridge doors opened with the drones instruction, and Lance felt frozen in place. 

Lotor sat in the middle of the bridge, a table set for two and what Lance assumed was a high tech tea pot sitting in the center, snacks piled neatly next to it. Lotor hummed pleasantly, waving for Lance to come in. 

“Blue Paladin! Come sit, we have things to discuss.” It sounded more like an invitation than an order, though it seemed as though Lance had a choice earlier and being here was synonymous with him taking Prince Lotor up on the offer. Perhaps it  _ was  _ a legitimate invitation. Lance hesitated before stepping into the room, wandering over to the table and sitting down cautiously in the chair opposite of the prince. “I understand you weren’t well-fed while in the Xarcadian galaxy. I do apologize.” The prince began to pour tea into the cup on Lance’s side, pausing in the conversation. Lance wondered if he should respond. 

“Uh… I was a prisoner,” he stated, like that was enough to explain his mistreatment. Surely Prince Lotor knew this, and yet he still looked disgruntled. 

“I told them to take care of you, though I suppose the context called for the treatment you were given it is not how I meant. I sincerely apologize.” He began to pour himself some tea as well, then set the tea pot down and motioned to the food. “Please help yourself,” and then he took a sip of his tea. Lance picked up the cup, staring down into the contents; loose leaf tea. He wondered if that was a general practice because of the druids. He took a sip - it was too hot to actually taste any of the flavor. “I have a proposition for you.” Lotor picked up one of the bright pink space scones and took a bite, as if he were having a conversation with a friend. Lance felt like he might still be asleep. Or dead. Or anything but  _ actually here.  _

“Okay…” Lance picked up one of the scones also, taking a bite and almost moaning out loud at the taste - just like chocolate. He eagerly picked up another one. 

“I’m attempting to rebuild my father’s empire with stronger, better soldiers than those he granted with power. How can he call us an undefeatable empire when his armies have been destroyed by Voltron over and over again?” More than anything Prince Lotor seemed annoyed, piquing Lance’s curiosity. Not many people on the other side got to look into the mind of the villain like this, which meant that Lance was about to die, probably. Still, he’d welcomed death before, and it would be worth it if this was his last meal.  _ Chocolate.  _ He hadn’t had anything like it in what felt like ages. What might’ve  _ been  _ ages. “The paladins of Voltron are skilled, strong, and agile. I need soldiers to rival them. This is where you come in.” Lotor waved a scone at Lance precariously. “As the Blue Paladin your skills with long-range weaponry could be of use to us. I’ve heard stories of your sniping abilities and they are quite impressive, if I do say so myself.” 

Lance could already tell where this was going without Lotor getting to the point. “Thank you,” he accepted the praise, taking another sip of his tea. Now that he could taste it, it was good. Mild to balance the taste of the chocolate. 

“I would like you to join our legion as my right hand.” Still, Lance choked on his tea. “Of course, you have a choice. However, you do understand that declining this kind of offer makes me assume that you remain against my army. As a consequence, you will be imprisoned until the end of your life. Do forgive me, Blue Paladin, but this is war. I cannot remain lukewarm on this issue.” Lotor took another sip of his tea. He began to hum, staring out of the large window to the stars, as if he was giving Lance time to think about it right here right now. 

Being Prince Lotor’s right hand meant that he had complete access to everything on the ship, but he didn’t expect it to be that easy. Obviously, Lotor would be on the lookout for any signs of betrayal, or the thought of betrayal, which meant if Lance went through with it he either had to play the pawn so well that he gave Lotor no doubts or that he had to actually betray Team Voltron. Lance wasn’t sure if he had the acting ability in him, but he had to try, right? Giving up his life meant giving up on the team, and the chance to get some good intel might be worth it. Maybe he could find Matt. Maybe that would be good enough, before he died. 

“Then maybe I shouldn’t be called Blue Paladin, anymore,” he finally said. Prince Lotor’s hum turned to one of interest instead, turning to look at Lance with piercing yellow eyes. Lance didn’t flinch away. 

“What shall I call you?” The prince asked, wicked smile pulling across his face. 

  
  


“Just Lance.”


	2. recycled stardust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings just weren’t something Lance did anymore, at least not good ones. Every time he felt even remotely happy anymore there was something lurking to snap him back into reality, some call to arms in his head that he couldn’t even fulfill anymore. “What would you do if I told you I was out in space?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is 5 days long enough to wait to update? i think so. anyways, enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> [oh! check out the lovely fanart of this fic that my bang partner did right here!](https://paladinspride.tumblr.com/post/167023017384/i-had-the-pleasure-of-drawing-for-dwreeds-lovely) <3

“Lance? Lance…” He groaned as he was tugged from sleep, staring blearily up at his mother as she looked down at him admonishingly. “Don’t you have work?” 

 

He muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow and sitting up in bed. The fabric of his shirt stuck to his skin as he shivered. Her eyebrows pulled together, placing a hand on his forehead as he swung his legs out of bed, body aching.    
  


“Oi, no no. Hold on, you have a fever.” She insisted, picking up his phone from the bedside table to rifle through his contacts. Lance wondered how she knew his password, but didn’t question her, watching as she dialed someone - he assumed it was his boss since she was talking formally but still like his mom. He slouched tiredly, listening to his mom rattle on about getting his shifts covered this weekend so he could get better, and then hanging up with a satisfied hum. 

 

“I can still go to work, mama,” he insisted, but she shook her head, grasping his arm to help him from the mattress so she could strip the sweat-soaked sheets. 

 

“Go take a lukewarm shower, I’ll put fresh sheets on your bed, okay?” She patted his bottom and he scooted his way out the door, tugging his shirt up and over his head and throwing it to the floor. 

 

“Thanks…” he muttered, and she waved him off as he made his way down the hallway to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and turned the water on, stripping his boxers as he waited for the temperature to rise before climbing in. Even with the water lukewarm it felt too cold, and it took a lot of willpower for him to stay in. 

 

When Lance got back to his room he saw the huge bottle of ice water sitting on his nightstand, and the fan his mom had brought into the room to keep the room cool. He rummaged through his drawers for a fresh pair of briefs and a clean t-shirt, slipping into them as he climbed onto the new sheets. He felt a little bit better, but still dizzy, and reached for the bottle of water to down it, gulping down half of it before lying back and staring at the ceiling until he fell asleep. 

 

When he woke up it was dark outside, and he could hear murmuring out in the hallway. The clock on the nightstand read 2:33 a.m., but Lance still didn’t want to go see what the murmuring was about. His body felt heavy and achey as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat as he forced himself to his feet and grabbed the now-hot water bottle from the nightstand. He wandered over to the door and listened, head pressed against the wood. 

 

“His bed is right against the same wall as mine, mama. Please.” It was Daniel, sounding tired and mildly irritated. 

 

“Okay. We’ll move your bed tomorrow, alright? Lance is passed out right now anyways. His fever hadn’t broken yet.” His mom. 

 

Lance’s fever definitely hadn’t broken yet. He felt stifling hot and lethargic, and he belatedly remembered the hot bottle in his hands and pushed his door open. Both Daniel and his mom stepped out of the way as Lance stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes drooping. 

 

“Honey, why are you out of bed?” His mother flocked to him immediately, but Daniel went back to his bedroom and shut the door without a word. Lance held out his water bottle, and she took it from him while clucking her tongue. “I’ll refill it for you. Go back to bed.” She made her way down the steps, and Lance watched until she was out of sight before going back into his bedroom. He rummaged through his drawer for the cube that Coran gave him and held it in his hands, resisting the urge to swipe over the grooves on the sides to activate it so his mother wouldn’t come in while it was working. He stared at the wall, listening to his mom putter around the kitchen downstairs. Everything seemed too loud in his ears, even her coming up the steps and wandering back into his room to place the water bottle and some fever reducer by his bedside. She pushed his hair back from his forehead, and Lance’s eyes dropped closed, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. 

 

“Sorry, mama.” He murmured. 

 

“For what?” Her eyebrows pulled together in concern as Lance shook his head, unsure of how to elaborate. Instead, he started crying, because he didn't know what to say to her and he  _ knew  _ she was worried. He knew she wanted to know what was going on with him but he wasn't sure if he could ever tell her. “No, no, no.” She shushed him, leaning down to wipe his tears away from his face and press kisses to his cheeks. “You take all the time you need to deal with this, okay? We aren't mad at you. We just wish we knew how to help you,” she insisted, but Lance wasn't sure if he could believe her. Daniel certainly seemed pissed about it. Hell, Lance probably would be too, if they were reversed. 

 

“I don't know how to help me either.” He hiccuped, breath shuddering as his mom wiped the tears from under his eyes with her thumbs. 

 

“Well, when you figure it out let us know.” She helped him sit up, placing the water bottle in his hands and dropping the fever reducer into his palm. He threw it back and downed it with the water, sniffling and hugging the water to his chest so that it would cool him down. “Want me to read to you until you fall asleep?” She leaned over to grab the tablet from his desk, swiping it open and fiddling with it. 

 

“Ma, I’m twenty-...” … How old was he? She didn’t seem to notice his hesitation, because she was scrolling through the books until she reached Harry Potter, opening it and settling down next to him on his bed. Lance sighed, resting his head on her shoulder so that he could read with her as she began to read out loud. 

 

When Lance woke up he didn’t feel like death was knocking on his door, so that was  _ something  _ at least. His head was throbbing and he still felt really warm, but compared to the day before, when it was painful to even get out of bed, he was in good shape. The blinds were drawn closed and the fan was still going, the water bottle on his nightstand sweating. He reached for it and guzzled it down; there was a note in his mom’s handwriting. 

 

_ no work today (: call me when you want me to bring you breakfast _

 

Lance sighed, blindly reaching for his phone and staring at the screen as he climbed out of bed. There was a text from Thalia, and Lance almost laid himself back down as his heart leapt into his throat. 

 

_ hey ! went to get my coffee and good conversation from you and found out you’re sick? hope you feel better soon !  _

 

Lance stared at it, brain not conjuring up any good way to reply. He could just say thanks, but it didn’t feel good enough. Instead, he locked his phone and threw it to the side. Everything felt  _ heavy,  _ physically and mentally. For the first time since he’d actually met Thalia, he felt weighed down by the idea of actually being with her, too rooted in real time. He rooted his hands in his hair, taking in deep breaths as he tried to grasp desperately onto his memories of space.

 

Not for the first time since he’d come back home did he think that maybe it was all a dream. Everything; the lions, the princess, the castle, the battles, all of them a figment of his imagination. Even Coran. 

 

_ Coran…  _

 

He scrambled towards his closet, eyes blurry with tears and sniffling as he threw the doors open and began rummaging through the depths of storage space; vintage Legos, old game cartridges, old clothes that he had yet to donate, shoes, the onesie his mother had brought him home from the hospital in, a pair of knitted baby socks, and  _ the box.  _ The shoe box he had deliberately hid under the baby clothes his mom would never get rid of. He pulled it out from the clutter, tears falling so thick and fast that when he wiped his eyes his hands were soaked and he had to dry them on his pant leg. He tugged the box open and threw the lid to the side, throwing out various alien coin and knickknacks to get to his favorite item at the bottom; a small and slick black cube, markings engraved on the sides. Upon Lance’s touch the markings lit up blue, spreading light over the room in a slew of constellations and planets. He thought he would feel relief, or validation, or something. 

 

Instead, it made him  _ homesick _ . 

 

His fingers made contact with the holographic stars, and he scrolled across space until he found the Milky Way Galaxy, zooming in until he could see Kerberos. He laid back on the carpet, zooming out and staring up at the blue projection of space, tears falling down the sides of his face into his hair. Carly Rae began to blast from his sheets, and he ignored it for a good fifteen seconds before digging it out and swiping to accept the FaceTime call. He didn’t keep the camera on him though, he kept the phone in his hand as he sprawled out, letting it show the hologram of space twinkling around the room. 

 

“Lance?” Keith - it had only been a few days since they last talked, and they’d never talked so frequently just the two of them since they’d landed back on Earth. It felt foreign, and grated on Lance’s nerves.

 

“What?” He didn’t want to pick a fight, but he was bitter. It was hard to keep the venom in his tone when it was very obvious from his raw voice that he’d been crying. 

 

“Nothing…” Lance felt just a little bad for snapping, but only a little bit.  “Pidge and Hunk aren’t on the line yet, hold on-”

 

“They should be in class. Don’t bother.” Lance cut him off, watching a falling star shoot across his vision and then blip out in a flash of light. Keith was quiet; the whole room was quiet except for the background chatter on Keith’s end and Lance’s sniffling. “Hey, mullet?” 

 

Keith grunted. 

 

“It was real, wasn’t it,” Lance started, “The team? Voltron? Zarkon, the druids, Lotor…? Us. We were really out there, weren’t we? With Blue? And Red, too?” 

 

Again, Keith was quiet. Lance didn’t want to blink, afraid that he would open his eyes and Keith will have never called, that the cube would be gone, that it wouldn’t exist. “Yeah,” Keith said finally, voice quiet, “It was real. All of it.” Lance took a deep breath. Again, he felt no validation or relief. 

 

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse,” he admitted. Keith hummed, and Lance turned onto his side, propping his arm up so that he could see Keith on the screen. Keith seemed to be looking past him, at the constellations circling the room. After a moment he stared straight into the camera, and it felt like he was seeing right through Lance, but it didn’t scare him. 

 

“Me neither.” Keith agreed. 

 

At least they could agree on something. 

 

As the day of Marisol’s wedding came Lance found himself nervous and awkward. His mother and younger siblings seemed in high spirits but Lance couldn’t help but feel like this whole day was going to mess him up. He’d told Thalia that he would pick her up, so as they departed from their house Lance took his sister’s car, scrunching his nose up at the fruity air freshener that had somehow managed to survive despite her being gone for months now. He plugged in Thalia’s address and let the GPS guide him there, biting at his lip as he climbed out of the car and stared up at the condominium. It was part of a complex that was mostly used as vacation homes, colorful and well kept with white porches and picturesque window panes. He stepped up the porch and knocked, rocking back and forth on his feet. He could hear Thalia yell something at the door, the hurried clacking of heels on hardwood flooring, and then the door was being wrenched open to reveal her. 

 

His eyes went to inspect what she was wearing, but when they immediately met where the dark green lace of her bodice dipped to show cleavage he forced his eyes back up, knowing his mother would kick him in the shins if she knew he’d just done that. Thalia didn’t seem to notice - she was digging through her purse, eyebrows furrowing in frustration until finally she found what she’d been looking for, sweet smile tugging at her lips as she held the pearl earrings out to him. He held them, standing stock still as she grabbed one and put it on, fumbling for a moment. 

 

“Sorry, I’m running so late this morning,” she apologized. Lance didn’t know how she was running late when she looked perfectly fine and the only thing she was apparently missing had been her earrings. 

 

“You look great.” He was so glad he didn’t have the energy to sputter because otherwise it would’ve seemed abrupt. She blushed, taking the other earring from his palm. 

 

“Thanks. You do, too.” Once the other earring was on she sighed. “Okay.” She looked down at herself, flipping her dark, curly hair over her shoulder and carefully stepping down the porch steps. “So, is there anything important I should know about you before I meet all of your friends?”

 

Lance opened the car door for her, and she looked up at him as she climbed in, biting at her lip as he leaned on the open door. “I haven’t seen them since primary school. Don’t worry about it.” 

  
  


Marisol’s wedding was beautiful, and incredibly awkward. He hadn’t seen her or any of the people at her wedding since he left to train at the Garrison, and it was a little bit weird for people to ask him what he had been up to in the time he’d been away when he  _ knew  _ he’d been out saving the universe and none of them would believe him. With Thalia there though it was easy to deflect. He felt a little bad at first, because every time he didn’t know how to answer a question (which was often) he would bring her into the conversation and let her take over. She was quick to make everyone her friend, and it might have made him a little uncomfortable if everyone weren’t enamored with her, including himself. Her laugh locked onto whatever gave it life and filled it with warmth. Lance found himself acting incredibly stupid just to hear her keep laughing, but it was worth it. Eventually, he did seem to wear her out and she excused herself to get a drink from the bar at the reception, offering to grab him one as well.

 

He stood alone at his mother’s side as he waited, wondering to himself why he found people not believing what he’s saying to be such a problem. In the grande scheme of things  _ he  _ knew what he went through and that should be enough… shouldn’t it? That should be enough. Yet, watching everyone dance and celebrate normally, everyone human, Lance could feel his depression lurking in the distance, waiting for the most inopportune time to strike. His mother seemed in a good mood, though, watching Daniel and Rosalina dance and talking to Marisol’s mom as if everything was alright. Lance supposed that aside from  _ him,  _ everything  _ was  _ alright. 

 

Thalia came over with drinks, then, and Lance took the glass, and her hand, and led her away.

 

One drink was enough to loosen him up, and then another was enough to get him back on the dance floor and feeling a little bit like himself again. Three had him flirting with Thalia, bonding in their single misery and watching the newly married couple happily dancing together. Four was enough to make him laugh, laugh at anything and everything. Thalia was funny in her dry humor, pointing out every person ogling another single wedding-goer and making up some story as to why they were staring so hard. But after five drinks he was feeling awful, here in public, around his parents and Thalia and a bunch of almost-strangers. It was within the five minutes Lance had finished his drink, with Thalia’s weight in his lap feeling too real and too present, that Lance had to excuse himself. He patted Thalia’s legs and she stood up, letting him go as he excused himself from the bar to go to the restroom and lock himself in a stall. 

 

He leaned against the door and buried his face in his hands, taking deep breaths to try to get a grasp on himself. A little over an hour - he could hold himself together for a little over an hour, couldn’t he? He didn’t want to be rude and hide the whole night or leave early. Not that anyone would particularly miss him anyways… He tugged his phone out of his pocket and opened up Hunk’s contact, hitting the call button and groaning as it rang. 

 

“Come on, buddy. Pick up…” When it went to his voicemail Lance glanced down at the time on his phone - Hunk was definitely in class right now, which meant Pidge was in class. He could call Shiro, but Shiro liked to give the kind of sage advice that Lance didn’t always understand. That left Keith, who gave no advice at all, and was awful at comforting people with words. 

 

… Better than nothing? 

 

He pulled up Keith’s contact and waited, half hoping that Keith wouldn’t answer. He wasn’t sure whether to feel upset or relieved when his phone went straight to voicemail, shoving his phone into his pocket and resting his head back against the stall door. 

 

“Lance?” The clicking of heels on tile, Thalia’s voice. “You okay?” 

 

Lance took a deep breath. “Yeah…” his voice cracked, betraying him. He swallowed back tears. “I’ll be out soon.” Even still, they were falling down his face, and he hastily wiped them away as Thalia’s footsteps wandered closer, stopping outside his stall. She leaned against the door. 

 

“Whatever you’re dealing with…” she trailed off, unsure, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to relate, but I’m still willing to listen if you want to talk.” When he said nothing, she continued, “I’ve got two shoulders for crying on. I hear they’re pretty good at their job.” 

 

Lance snorted through his tears. “Have you given them a promotion?” 

 

“Maybe eventually,” she laughed. Lance sniffed, wiping his eyes and unlocking the stall door, feeling acutely embarrassed as Thalia stepped away so that he could open it. She opened her arms to him and he almost collapsed into them, feeling her stumble slightly with his weight. Still, she held tight to him as he buried his face into her neck. She smelled like peaches and cream and shampoo, and he could feel the tension in his body releasing with every inhale of her he took.

 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell you.” He also didn’t think he could ever have a normal relationship with her either, or  _ anyone  _ for that matter. 

 

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything. It’s not about me.” Thalia pulled away from him, wiping the stray tears away from his cheeks. “Want to go?” 

 

“I’m too drunk to drive.” He admitted. 

 

“Me too.” 

 

“Fuck.” 

 

Thalia pulled her phone out of her purse, one hand resting on Lance’s shoulder. “I’ll get a cab for us, then.” 

 

They waited at the curb for a cab, and it drove them back to Thalia’s house. Lance still felt pretty empty and apathetic, but he hoped it wasn’t visible. It probably was, considering Thalia was pointedly staring out the window and rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb. Once they got there they stumbled out of the cab, clutching onto each other’s hands and trying to be quiet as they made their way across the boardwalk filled with similarly intoxicated people that were chatting before going off their separate ways. Thalia struggled for a moment with the fob, and Lance watched her for about two minutes before bursting out laughing because  _ this whole situation was kind of ridiculous.  _

 

“Are you laughing at me?” There was an obvious pout in her voice, even as she relinquished the fob to him so he could swipe it - it worked the first time he tried - and push the door open, letting her in first. 

 

“Yeah, I am.” he snickered, the laughter easing the tension in his shoulders enough for him to feel more present and real.

 

This time, present and real didn’t feel like such a bad thing. 

 

Thalia flicked on the lights, setting her keys and purse on the rack by the door and humming to herself as she walked through the living room to the kitchen. Lance glanced around - the furniture was minimalistic, with an ever present Buddhism theme, as he walked around and looked at the art on the walls and the statues on the coffee table. Even the bookends were Buddha’s face. 

 

“Are you Buddhist?” He finally made it to the kitchen, watching her pour two glasses of water - it sloshed over one of the glasses but she made no move to clean it up. 

 

“Nah. The people I rented from are, though.” She handed him a glass and he took it gratefully, sipping at it as she stepped out of her heels and kicked them aside. “Did you ever finish watching Phantom of the Opera?” 

 

Lance realized he hadn’t, and shook his head. Thalia motioned for him to follow her up the steps, and he observed all the paintings on the wall as they made their way upstairs. She led them into her bedroom, and Lance stood awkwardly next to the bed, looking at the photos on the nightstand. They weren’t of people, just of places around Varadero Beach. Lance wondered if there were family photos in the frames at one point. 

 

Thalia opened up her laptop and typed in her password, setting it down before going through the drawers. “I’m going to get changed real quick. You can help yourself to Netflix. Want a t-shirt or something?” Even though she asked she still chucked a shirt at him, and he grabbed it out of the air and stared down at it.  _ Athens, Greece.  _

 

“Thanks.” But she was already wandering into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. 

 

With her gone Lance suddenly realized the implications of his situation.

 

He was in Thalia’s house. In her bedroom. Lance wasn’t  _ as drunk  _ as he’d been at the wedding but he was definitely still drunk, shrugging off his suit jacket and fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Thalia was taking way too long in the bathroom, it was making him even more nervous. He plopped onto her bed as he tugged the shirt up and over his head, looking at the background on her desktop - a photo of her and someone he assumed to be either a little sibling or a niece - before clicking on the icon for Netflix and waiting anxiously as it booted up. Predictably, almost the entirety of their documentary selection was on her list, along with a plethora of alien and ghost related films and one old cartoon. He scrolled, reading the descriptions as he waited until finally Thalia emerged from the bathroom. 

 

She was just in a sweatshirt with Greek letters and a pair of boyshorts but he still caught himself staring anyways, turning away to type Phantom of the Opera into the search bar and press play. She collapsed onto the bed next to him, pulling the laptop into her lap so that she could scoot in close.

 

“You can skip to where you were at. I’ve seen this movie a zillion times.” Lance looked down at her, watching her eyes flicker down to his lips and then to the screen. He moved his gaze back to the screen also, scrolling until he got to the scene he’d last been watching and trying to rein in his heartbeat. Thalia’s head rested against his shoulder and Lance tried to concentrate on the movie. It was almost impossible, even with shit hitting the fan and the chandelier crashing and swinging over the audience, the string instruments blairingly loud. He glanced down at Thalia again, their eyes meeting before she averted them back to the movie. 

 

Lance gathered what little courage he had left in his gut, “Thalia…” and kissed her on the mouth.  She hummed in surprise but kissed him back, movie finally completely forgotten. 

 

* * *

 

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Lance groaned, burying his face into his pillow as he felt weight dip onto the bed beside him. “I can’t believe I rode my bike to go get coffee and you’re still asleep…” He forced his face from the pillow to look up at Thalia, who was sitting there with a smile on her face and two coffees in her hand - one iced and one hot. 

 

“Oh…” Lance couldn’t even remember falling asleep. He remembered getting pretty drunk at Marisol’s wedding, he remembered Thalia interrupting his mental breakdown, he remembered coming back to Thalia’s... “ _ Oh… _ ” He said again as he sat up, scratching at his head as the blanket fell from his bare torso into his lap. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstay my welcome or anything-”

 

“As if.” Thalia waved him off, handing him the coffee and pulling her feet into her lap. “You’re always welcome.” 

 

The silence was awkward and stiff. 

 

“I just mean-. Uhm.” She squeezed her eyes shut, face going red as she turned away from him and used her long, curly hair to shield her face. 

 

“It’s okay. Thank you, I appreciate it.” Again, it was quiet. Lance felt stifled, and just a little bit mean. “About last night-” 

 

Again, Thalia cut him off. “I’m sorry. I feel like I completely took advantage of you and like, I know you’re a grown adult and you kissed me first anyways but I kinda let my dick think more than my brain and I-” Lance couldn’t help but snort in confusion, even though it was entirely inappropriate, “I understand if you don’t want me to come around the coffee stand anymore, I just-... I  _ like  _ you.” 

 

She took a moment to breathe, but Lance was too shocked to come up with anything to say, and before he could conjure anything she was rambling again. “I  _ know  _ it’s probably not a great time and there’s- there’s stuff you can’t tell me and I don’t think I could handle ever not knowing. It’s like someone telling you they were going to tell you something and then they forgot. But-... I got carried away. I’m sorry.” 

 

Feelings just weren’t something Lance  _ did  _ anymore, at least not good ones. Every time he felt even remotely happy anymore there was something lurking to snap him back into reality, some call to arms in his head that he couldn’t even fulfill anymore. “What would you do if I told you I was out in space?” 

 

This was a bad idea. She looked somewhere between hurt and relieved that he appeared to be changing the subject. Even still, she answered, slow and confused. “I thought they hadn’t sent anyone out since the Kerberos mission…” 

 

Just the thought sent adrenaline coursing through Lance’s veins; finding Blue, sitting in her cockpit for the first time and flying way, way out amongst the stars to places he hadn’t even known existed - to places  _ no one on Earth  _ knew existed. “Well, they hadn’t. They didn’t  _ send  _ me out, I was hardly even good enough to be in fighter class. I was still a cadet when it happened, but-. Thalia.” He placed his coffee aside and sat up properly, realizing she was sitting way closer to him than he’d initially thought as he straightened up right in her space. “I wish you could’ve  _ seen  _ all of it. The universe is  _ huge.  _ Our technology is so  _ fucking  _ primitive in comparison and all of the people out there - mermaids and time travelers and warlords and peace. Thalia, there’s  _ peace  _ out there because of me. Because of my friends. Because of some… oh my god, this is going to sound crazy, I already know, but this weapon  _ Voltron.  _ Five robotic lions that transform into-” his arms were frantically waving about in his excitement, “an even bigger robot. I piloted Blue,  _ god  _ I love her.” Suddenly he began to feel an ache in his chest, an emptiness in his head that was usually lulled and eased by Blue’s purring, but even trying to stretch his mind out as far as it would go she was absent. 

 

“Wait, Lance-” 

 

“When we went out there it was just an accident, you know? We just ended up stuck on the other side of a wormhole and suddenly we were the defenders of the universe, fighting aliens and saving civilizations and planets and people. And just when we thought it was over things would rev back up and one bad guy led to another and-. We lost our leader Shiro at some point. You probably remember him, Takashi Shirogane from the Kerberos mission -  _ him.  _ But we defeated the warlord of the Galra Empire Zarkon and then all of a sudden his  _ son  _ came into the equation and then the druids just posed another even worse problem. And I ended up behind enemy lines at one point and I  _ still  _ feel like shit about it but-” He didn’t even want to  _ think  _ about Lotor, right now. Not here with Thalia.

 

“It’s a long,  _ long  _ story with a bunch of bad guys and wormholes and-, lost lives, and torture, and-, and…” Betrayal - lots of betrayal. “But it ends good,” he promised. 

 

When he looked at Thalia again she appeared at a loss, mouth open and eyebrows raised. She seemed frozen - like someone has stunned her with a freeze ray and left her there, but then she was standing to her feet and fidgeting anxiously, glancing around the room to avoid looking at him. “I have to get to work.” 

 

It was really all the response he needed. “Thalia-”

 

“No. No, I think you should go.” She picked up his clothes from where they were forgotten on the floor and threw them at him, turning on her heel without looking at him and running down the steps. 

 

Lance cursed under his breath, climbing out from under the covers and hurriedly pulling his clothes on to chase after her down the steps. He made it just as she was opening the front door, and he hastily shut it with his weight. She almost jumped out of her skin. “Thalia, wait a second. I can explain.” When he reached for her hand she pulled it away aggressively, almost smacking him in the chin in the process. 

 

“Don’t  _ touch me, _ ” she hissed, walking towards the kitchen so she could make an escape through the back door. 

 

“It-...” He swallowed back tears. “It was a joke,” he offered weakly. Thalia rounded on him, hands going up in something akin to frustration. 

 

“I  _ know  _ what a joke looks like from you and that wasn’t a joke and I-.” She cut herself off, forcing herself to take a deep breath. 

 

“Wait. Wait, I can  _ show  _ you, alright?” He dug in his pocket for his phone, but when he tried to activate the screen it wouldn’t turn on. “Wait,” his voice cracked. “It just has to charge and then-.” He was crying again but he forced himself to smile.  _ Yes _ , his confidence would win her over, surely. 

 

“You need to go.” Thalia sounded on the verge of crying herself, even as she pushed against Lance’s shoulders towards the door. 

 

“Thalia,  _ please.  _ Just give me a chance to show you.  _ Please. _ Then take my phone, I don’t care. I just-.” He kept trying to push the phone into her hands but she kept refusing to take it, opening the front door before pushing him out and closing it quickly behind him. “ _ Thalia. _ ” He knocked, earning no reply. He set his forehead against the door and shut his eyes. It wasn’t hard to heard Thalia crying on the other side of the door, even with the sounds of bicycle bells and ocean waves rolling through one ear and out the other.

 

“ _ Fuck, _ ” he whispered, vehement. He stood there, fists clenched until he couldn’t hear Thalia crying anymore, and then forced himself away from the door, beginning the long walk home. 

 

By the time he got back to his parents' house he was exhausted from crying and walking. Neither of the cars were there, which meant that his dad was probably at work and his mom was probably out running errands. He used his key to unlock the door, finding Daniel and Rosalina in the living room. Daniel was pouring over a textbook and Rosalina was eating cereal, sitting in front of the TV and looking bored. 

 

“Lance? Are you okay?” Rosalina was up immediately, running over to him to cling to his waist. He shook his head, ruffling her bangs. 

 

“No…” It was useless to lie. He didn’t have the energy to act fine, and he didn’t have it in himself to make Rosalina let him go. 

 

“Are you hurt? Do you want cereal? We can watch whatever you want on TV,” she offered, looking up at him with big, bright eyes. 

 

“Cereal and TV sounds nice.” She pulled away, eager to make it, but instead he picked her up, even in all of her twelve-year-old glory. She clung to him with her legs around his waist, draping her arms around his neck as he made his way to the kitchen. “Did you eat anything, Dani?” 

 

His brother didn’t reply, either too engrossed in his homework or ignoring him. 

 

“He hasn’t.” Rosalina whispered into his ear. Lance nodded, setting her on the counter and tugging out two bowls and the cereal, quickly making them and helping his little sister down from the counter before wandering with her back into the living room. 

 

“Here, buddy. You need to eat.” He held out a bowl to Daniel, who stared at it in stubborn silence before taking it. Lance sat on the couch next to his brother’s homework, letting Rosalina climb into his lap as he ate and stared blankly at the screen. 


	3. the human endeavor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor appeared unfazed, but Lance was sweating, feeling uncomfortably hot in his seat as his heart raced. "Do you feel disgusted, then? Working for me." 
> 
> Lance thought of the moment when he'd been fighting with Keith - when Keith had knocked his helmet off of his head and they'd stopped fighting for a minute to stare at each other. "We thought you were dead, and you…?" Even if they were angry tears, Lance had never thought he'd see Keith cry.
> 
> "Sometimes it makes me feel sick," Lance stated, feeling like even if he weren't honest Lotor would be able to see right through him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter gets pretty heavy. and violent. bless. 
> 
> proceed with caution.

"Ah, Lance. Just the champion I wanted to see."  _ Champion. _ Lance remembered the way Shiro used to shiver at the word, and it sent a sympathetic shiver down his spine, too, even as Lotor smiled at him openly and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. 

 

"Oh, yeah?" He slipped his way out of Lotor's reach and drew his heavy sniper rifle upwards, posing as reminiscent of the models in the  _ Vogue _ magazines in his sister's room as he could, even if Lotor wouldn't get the reference. Still, the Prince seemed tickled. "Well, you've found me. What can I do for you?" He placed the gun to the side, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the towel his fellow soldier in the corner offered him, giving him a quiet thank you. 

 

"You've been working very hard and I'd just like to have a talk with you. We haven't had much time to chit-chat." Lance isn't sure that trying to claim the entire universe allows much room for idle chit-chat regardless of the time of it, but he still agreed, wrapping the towel around his neck and following Lotor out into the corridor. He wasn't going to waste the opportunity to distract Lotor. The soldiers bowed their heads in respect to Lotor as they passed, and fist-bumped Lance. He'd never been in Lotor's room, but it was dimly lit and lush, the atmosphere comfortable. There was an aria playing over the coms in a language that Lance couldn't understand, but that was an afterthought when he saw the tea set up. Lotor loved to sit down for tea and talk as if he had all the time in the world. Lance guessed he had the luxury to take his time, even if almost everyone in the entire universe couldn't do the same.

 

"What did you want to talk about?" Lance took the seat offered to him, watching as Lotor poured him his tea - when he picked it up it was cold - probably a weird space equivalent of iced tea. Despite the laid-back nature of the atmosphere, Lotor looked troubled, eyebrows pulled together in worry as he poured his own tea and crossed his legs. 

 

"My father's vision." If anything were going to make Lance choke on his tea, it was that. He cleared his throat and set his glass down, scratching his head and waiting for Lotor to continue. "The war has been going on for as long as I can remember. During war strategy meetings my father would always declare that he wanted one galaxy under one ruler - how picturesque it would be if we could all get along without bloodshed and how uniting the universe would fix unnecessary strife. I believed in this vision, but the more I watched it unfold the more unsure I was that my father was going about it the right way." 

 

Lance swallowed nervously, toes shifting in his boots as he wondered where this conversation was going.

 

"When I was young we visited a planet whose name I've long forgotten, though I'll never forget the moment I was kidnapped and held for ransom. The people there had smiled at my father and had served him happily, and yet I sat imprisoned as a bargaining chip for their freedom." Lotor paused to take a sip of his tea, eyebrows going up as he swallowed. "My father left me on that planet for two years, but the people there didn't treat me as a prisoner. They saw the look on my face when my father's ship took off and took me by the hand. The lack of Galra occupation on their planet meant they were at peace, but once my father returned he enslaved them all." Lotor was almost unbearably flippant. 

 

"Do you think that was fair?" Lance worried his bottom lip. 

 

"Sometimes yes and sometimes no." Lotor didn't take a moment to think. "My father had given them jobs, a new way to live, and they betrayed him so he took action. Do I think it was the right action? Not necessarily." Lotor casually reached for one of the scones on the table and bit into it, mildly disinterested. "If you allow for weakness it spreads and spreads until everything falls apart, but if you make a martyr, people fear you too much to question you. And my father didn't like questions." He had a far-off look in his eye, like maybe once, or more than a few times, Lotor was at the wrong end of Zarkon's wrath. Lance almost pitied him. "You're fresh-faced to this war, though. What do you see?" 

 

Lance wasn't sure if he wanted to answer that question, but Lotor didn't look like he would respond badly to whatever Lance said. Of course, that's probably how he wanted Lance to feel; like he could say anything, and one day Lotor would probably make him pay for it. "I think it's an unrealistic expectation to believe that people won't try to resist conquest." Lotor linked his fingers together, tilting his head to the side. "The initial motive of the war was supposed to make the universe picturesque but unless you're offering people a better deal than what they've got, they're not going to want you to rule over them. And they're going to resist you, and keep resisting until either you're dead or they are." When Lotor said nothing Lance found himself continuing to ramble. "Enslaving people and making them work for you isn't picturesque; it's vile." 

 

Lotor appeared unfazed, but Lance was sweating, feeling uncomfortably hot in his seat as his heart raced. "Do you feel disgusted, then? Working for me." 

 

Lance thought of the moment when he'd been fighting with Keith - when Keith had knocked his helmet off of his head and they'd stopped fighting for a minute to stare at each other.  _ "We thought you were dead, and you…?" _ Even if they were angry tears, Lance had never thought he'd see Keith cry.

 

"Sometimes it makes me feel sick," Lance stated, feeling like even if he weren't honest Lotor would be able to see right through him. "But there isn't much of a choice between betrayal or death." 

 

For the first time since they'd entered Lotor seemed interested instead of bored, reaching for his glass. "I know many people that would disagree with you," he said. "You could, of course, betray me in turn. Why haven't you?" 

 

Lance thought about standing on the deck of Lotor's ship, at his right hand. Cracking jokes and having the other soldiers have to stifle their laughter when it was inappropriate to laugh, patting him on the back every time he got better and stronger, showed initiative, could question things - where his input was considered. 

 

"Sometimes being valued trumps being needed." Lance almost believed it.

 

* * *

 

Sunday clawed its way forth like a beast, and Lance wished he were still sick so that he wouldn't have to function like a regular person. 

 

Thoughts of Thalia floated around his head, her disbelief buzzing like an unwanted fly in his ear and bothering him just as much. He knew no one would believe him. Lance didn't know why he'd thought it would be okay to tell her, and he felt bad for smashing whatever illusion of him she'd had in her head, almost as bad as he felt for himself. 

 

But only almost.

 

He also wished it weren't Sunday because his extended family always came for brunch, and while those were days Lance had initially cherished he was slowly finding them to be more grating than anything else. 

 

It mostly had to do with his aunt's new boyfriend Miguel, who thought it was funny to joke about inappropriate things and undermine Lance's depression and trauma. Lance was usually able to pull himself out of his funky headspace in front of his little cousins, but what had happened with Thalia was still fresh in his brain and it was more difficult than usual. 

 

Lance took a break from playing with his cousins to get some water and felt his smile creep down and off his face. His aunt's boyfriend Miguel noticed the look on his face and asked, "Therapy not working out for you?" Lance shrugged his shoulders, forced a weak smile on his face and said that he was still working on it. Miguel took a drag of his cigar before continuing something along the lines of "you should start to work out" or "you need to go outside more" or "have you ever tried yoga?" which were all things that were making Lance's smile more strained.

 

"It's not as simple as that, I'm afraid," he responded. If only his problems were as simple as that. 

 

"You know, Lance," Lance wanted to say  _ no, I don't know _ , immediately because he was sure some nonsense was going to spout out of Miguel's mouth, "Sometimes you have to choose happiness. Learn some resilience." 

 

Something inside of Lance snapped. His hands balled into fists at his sides as he turned on his heel to face his uncle, chewing at his lip in an attempt to keep his mouth shut. He tried to remember what his therapist Zenaida had taught him to calm down, taking a deep breath.  _ 10, 9, 8, 7, 6… 5…  _

 

"Hey, calm down. You don't have to get so worked up about it."  _ 4… 3… 2.. _ . "It's not that serious." The hand on his shoulder only made it worse, and before he really understood what he was doing his fist was connecting with Miguel's jaw, sending him a few paces backward. They were both stunned into silence, shocked that Lance had done that. 

 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Lance tried to rush out the apology but Miguel was already coming towards him, fury written over his face. His swings were unpracticed and sloppy with rage - Lance was only trying to dodge and defuse the situation until he was backed up against the fence of his backyard with Miguel's hand around his throat, choking as his feet dangled from the ground. He could see his little cousins run into the house, shouting for Lance's dad and uncles, as his vision began to blur. Lance gripped Miguel's arms in desperation and then used the leverage to tuck his knees up and kick into Miguel's chest. He could feel a rib crack under the impact, but couldn't care less as he was released and air rushed into his lungs. He heaved, crouched over his knees as Miguel groaned and cradled his ribs. Even still, Miguel straightened himself up and swung at Lance again, but Lance was quick to retaliate this time, dodging and grabbing his wrist before throwing Miguel over onto his back, going back to heaving as Miguel groaned in pain and stayed on the ground. 

 

Lance leaned back over his knees and gasped for air, glancing up to see his dad and uncles stopped in the middle of the yard with confusion written on their faces. 

 

"What happened here?" Lance's uncle Paz was quick to rush over to Lance, taking his chin and tilting his head upwards to see the bruises blossoming on his neck. 

 

"He punched me." Miguel wheezed, and Lance tore his chin away from his uncle in shame, squeezing his eyes shut as he took a shaky breath. 

 

"Lance…?" His uncle Julio looked at him in concern as he helped Miguel to his feet, and Lance wasn't sure how he was supposed to deny that because he did. The bruise was already blossoming on Miguel's cheek and eye where Lance had decked him. 

 

"I-I did. I didn't mean to, it was just reflex. I'm sorry, I-..." 

 

Was there a point in defending himself? Probably not. His father sighed, rubbing at the scruff on his chin. "Paz, Julio, take care of Miguel, would you? Lance, inside. Now." Lance didn't refuse the order, muttering an apology to his little cousins as he had to brush by them to get into the house. He rubbed at his eyes, avoiding looking at his mom and aunts - especially Gloria, who rushed outside to check up on her boyfriend. 

 

"Lance, what's gotten into you?" His father asked, arms crossed like he was disappointed. Lance didn't answer, just listened to his mom usher his cousins and siblings outside so that they could talk privately. 

 

"I'm sorry. He just-... when he touched me I kind of freaked and I…" Lance trailed off, not wanting to elaborate further. He rubbed gingerly at his neck, resisting the urge to cry when his mom wrapped a rice ice pack around his neck to soothe the bruising. The truth was Lance had kind of blacked out, had become nothing but his actions in that moment. He hoped his aunt's boyfriend wouldn't press charges; he doesn't think he'd pass any mental illness testing they would screen him for if he had to go to court. He'd probably be deemed too unstable to be around people. What if he got locked up? 

 

"Baby, it's okay. Take a deep breath." His mom pried his nails away from where they were dragging red marks down his arms, and Lance forced himself to close his eyes and try to breathe. When his breathing was finally regular she let go of him and then stepped away to talk to his dad. They were muttering, loud enough for Lance to hear but he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to know what they really thought of him because he's sure whatever they thought probably wasn't good after this whole ordeal. "Go upstairs and take a breather. And call work and tell them you'll see them tomorrow, you're not going tonight." Lance technically didn't have to listen to his mom, but he would. He nodded, slinking his way to the staircase and running upstairs to his room, shutting the door behind him. He climbed into bed and pulled out the cube that Coran had given him, activating it and scrolling through the holomap until he couldn't recognize the constellations anymore. 

 

Out there. He thinks he still belongs out there.

 

* * *

 

"No. No, no, no, no, no…" This couldn't be happening.  _ This can't be happening. _

 

But it was; the sword sticking out of Keith's abdomen and the shock written on his face as Lance's fellow soldier, Grygor, carelessly threw him into the console, the impact cracking the screen as Keith's limp body collided and then slumped to the floor. 

 

"The Black Lion is advancing," is all Grygor said, as if he hadn't just taken Keith out and they were just doing a drill, "Let's proceed." 

 

Lance tried to find his breath, tearing his eyes away from the growing dark red stain on Keith's armor. "I-I'll catch up with you." It probably wasn't subtle, but Grygor didn't question him, left through the sliding doors and left Lance alone with Keith - with a  _ dying _ Keith. 

 

As the doors slid closed Lance bolted for him, breath ragged and catching in his throat as he dropped to his knees beside Keith.  _ Holy crow. Holy crow that's a lot of blood, calm down Lance… _ "Hang on, buddy." His hands were shaking as he cradled Keith in his arms, removing the cape from around himself to staunch the bleeding. 

 

"Lance…?" 

 

"Yeah." The fabric darkened with Keith's blood - the Red Paladin wasn't even being entirely responsive, gaze hazy as he stared up at Lance with grey-purple eyes, the only way Lance was able to tell he was still with him was the grip Keith had on his wrist. "You're bleeding way too much, I can't just-..." He glanced around in panic; if anyone saw him trying to save Keith he would be done for, but he wasn't going to  _ let him die _ . "Your bayard." He was about to stand up and glance around for it but Keith's grip on his wrist stayed steadfast, almost cutting off his circulation. Keith sputtered, unintelligible as his lungs fought for breath. Belatedly, Lance remembered the Marmora blade Keith kept with him, and he reached around Keith for it with his free hand, pulling it from its holster and lying Keith down. "You have to let go of me for a minute, Keith." He wanted to come off as calm and collected but his voice was shaking, breathless. Keith let go of his wrist, hands shaking as he held Lance's cape against the gaping hole in his stomach. Lance grabbed his gun, shooting the laser at the blade and watching the metal turn red with heat. He could hardly breathe, setting his gun down. 

 

"I'm sorry, this is going to hurt like a bitch," he laughed, nervous tears running down his cheeks as Keith looked up at him, breath stuttering and not saying anything as he removed the cape and tore the hole in his armor wider. The wound was long, and Lance could feel bile rising up his throat - he wondered how Keith hadn't puked yet. He offered Keith his free hand and Keith took it, grip like a vice as Lance counted down. "3, 2, 1…" 

 

As the hot metal melded Keith's skin back together he screamed, the sound bloodcurdling in Lance's ears. 

 

_ "Lance… Lance!"  _

 

Lance woke with a start, hand reflexively grabbing Daniel's wrist as he was shaken awake, soaked with sweat and heaving for air. Daniel stared at him with wide eyes, and Lance released his grip immediately as he hyperventilated. 

 

"Sorry, Dani…" He sat up and swung his legs out of bed, trying to force down the sting in his chest when Daniel took a step away from him. 

 

"You were screaming in your sleep." It wasn't the first time if Daniel's conversations with their mom said anything, but Lance still felt bad. 

 

"I'm sorry… Did I wake you up?" He glanced over at the clock - it was 6:45 a.m. and Daniel didn't have to be at school until 8 o'clock, so Lance probably had woken him up. 

 

"Not the first time," Daniel muttered, and Lance felt a pang of guilt hit him in the gut. Lance chewed at his lip, sighing as Daniel stared him down. "What  _ happened _ to you?" 

 

Lance wished he could say. He wished he would've come back unaffected by everything and that he could live life normally, like before. He wanted that, for himself and his family. "Maybe mom will let you switch with Val's room downstairs. I'll talk to her about it today, okay? Or I'll move my bed away from this wall or something…" That was all he could offer, and Daniel just stared at him blankly, and then kicked his shin. When Lance didn't react he kicked harder, and then shoved him, and then climbed on top of him to hit his chest and slap his face. Lance let himself detach, even as he physically grimaced away from all of it because he  _ knew _ the minute he let himself feel something he'd really mess things up. One particularly aggressive slap to Lance's face and he grabbed Daniel's wrist again, staring up at his little brother's teary brown eyes. 

 

"What  _ happened _ to you?" Daniel demanded again, looking nervous this time. 

 

Thalia's voice rang in his ears, the sound of her crying reverberating around his memory like the echo of church bells vibrating in a tower.

 

Lance released Daniel's wrist and shoved him off of his lap. "Go get ready for school." Daniel stood there, tears streaking his cheeks and fists balled at his sides as he stared Lance down before turning on his heel and exiting the room, slamming the door on his way out. 

 

Lance took a deep breath.  _ What  _ **_happened_ ** _ to you?  _

 

His hands shook as he glanced around the room frantically - this would all be easier if he were actually dead. If he'd never actually made it home to Varadero Beach, if his family never had to deal with the aftermath of what had happened to him while he was in Voltron, if he'd just gotten propelled out of that airlock... He pushed himself to his feet, hands going from scratching down his arms to pulling his hair as he paced back and forth. Subconsciously, he reached for Blue, craving her soft affection and the steady thrum of her purring in his ears and craving someone who just got it without him having to speak or mask anything.

 

_ 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. _

 

_ 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.  _

 

_ 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. _

 

Lance glanced out the window at the ocean and thought about how easy it would be to just slip in and let himself be carried off, about how his dad had the keys to the hotel and he could get on the roof. He rushed for his cell phone, shaking, tears blinding his vision as he scrolled through his messages until he found the thread with Keith, Pidge, and Hunk. 

 

_ are any of you awake? _

 

He sent it off; how far ahead was Cuba from the Western Coast? Lance legitimately had no idea, but it was at _least_ an hour ahead. 

 

His phone began to ring not even a minute later. Lance stared at it; Keith. He was acutely nervous now that someone was actually calling him. He picked it up, wiping the tears still making steady tracks down his face.

 

"Lance? Are you okay?" Lance let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding in at the sound of Keith's voice. 

 

"N-no. Can you talk me down? I just need a distraction." His voice was tight, trying not to sound like he was crying right here right now even though Keith knew him better than that by now. 

 

"Did you see the new episode of  _ Space Ranger _ ?" Keith waited to hear Lance's nuh-uh before continuing. "Want to hear about it?" 

 

"No. No space stuff. I-..." Lance collapsed onto his knees, free hand pulling at his hair as he shook. "I had a dream about you. That day I went back and you almost died and I-"

 

"Lance. Breathe." Lance forced in a breath, relaxing as the air filled his lungs. "I'm here. I'm alive. You're alive. It's okay." It should've been reassuring but that was the root of the problem. 

 

"What if I don't want to be?" 

 

Keith drew in a breath and was quiet, and Lance felt bad for putting him on the spot. For asking him something that was probably going to obstruct his whole day. "I know there isn't anything I can really say to change how you feel," leave it to Keith to not have the right words, or even any, "but I'd like it if you stayed. I know that's selfish." 

 

Lance shifted onto his bottom, drawing his legs up to his chest and resting his forehead on his knees. He wondered if it was selfish of him to tell Thalia about Voltron - he wondered  _ why _ he'd told her. Honestly, he doesn't think that he got carried away in his feelings and told her everything in a fit of passion to win her over. He'd just felt  _ odd _ . He liked her, genuinely, but Thalia would only ever like what little pieces of him he would give and it had felt wrong. It had felt fake.

 

"Lance?" 

 

"I'm here," he sighed, "Give me a moment." 

 

"Okay." And then Keith went quiet again. Lance could hear him shuffling around, could hear the sound of something being poured into a bowl - probably cereal - could hear ruffling and fidgeting. A few minutes ticked by. 

 

"I told someone about Voltron," he breathed. Keith's chewing stopped. "I told someone and she didn't believe me." 

 

"Oh, a  _ she _ . Now it makes sense." 

 

He knew Keith was just poking fun at him, probably trying to brighten the mood, but it wasn't working. "It's not like that," he snapped defensively, then quite promptly corrected himself; "at least, not anymore." 

 

Keith's chewing resumed. "So, what did she say?" 

 

Thalia's words permeated his skull like they'd been tattooed there to make him suffer. "She didn't believe me, of course. She told me to get out." 

 

"Hmm." 

 

"I get it, you know? I get why she wouldn't believe me because that's why I don't talk to anyone about it but it still hurts." Lance rested his chin on his knees, staring at his closed door. 

 

"Well, why did you bring it up?" It was an innocent enough question, but knowing the context had Lance flushing from his face all the way down his torso. He groaned in embarrassment, not even sure he wanted to tell Keith the whole story. 

 

"She told me she likes me but… Voltron is a huge part of who I am now, even if we're not out there still defending the galaxy. And it felt weird keeping it from her knowing that." He scrubbed a hand over his face. Keith was relatively quiet, his chewing more soft and hesitant as he listened. 

 

"You liked her back, I'm guessing," Keith muttered. Lance heaved out a deep breath. 

 

"I guess I did. But if anything was going to come out of it before it's definitely not now. She thinks my screws are loose." There was silence for a few moments, with Lance resting his head back on his bed and Keith chewing at his cereal.

 

"Would whoever you're with have to know about Voltron?" 

 

Lance thought about his nightmares, about his aunt's boyfriend Miguel, about Daniel. "I think so." But that implied some feelings that Lance didn't want to get into. "What about you? Wouldn't you want to be with someone who could understand you?" 

 

Keith seemed to choke on his cereal, and Lance waited patiently as he coughed to regain himself. But even when he wasn't choking anymore he said nothing. 

 

"... Keith?" 

 

"I'm here. Just thinking." Lance pursed his lips as he kept waiting, staring up at the posters on his walls. "Yeah," Keith finally said, "I think I'd want that, too." 

 

* * *

 

"I'm sorry. Holy shit.  _ Holy shit. _ " Lance heaved in a breath, dropping Keith's knife and watching the red paladin shudder, breath rattling and uneven. "How the hell haven't you passed out?" He breathed, carefully maneuvering Keith so that he could sheath the Marmora blade and help him sit up.

 

"Don't jinx it," Keith hissed through gritted teeth. He let Lance drape his arm over his shoulder, sucking in a breath as Lance hauled him to his feet and held up most of his weight. "My helmet…" Keith cradled his side as he glanced around, and Lance was quick to find it, gingerly setting Keith against the broken console and running to get his helmet, where Shiro, Pidge, Matt, and Hunk were yelling for Keith frantically through the coms. Lance debated answering for him, longing to hear his name in their voices, but ultimately the thought made him freeze up. Even though he'd taken the initiative to work against Lotor from the inside the  _ most _ he'd done was reunite Pidge and Matt and fuck up a few planet invasions along the way. He hardly thought that any of it was worth being praised for, even if he was just trying to survive. 

 

"Lance." Keith's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Lance forced himself to take a deep breathe as he shuffled around the wreckage of the room for Keith's bayard. Once he found it he returned to Keith's side, eyes widening in alarm when Keith was dead weight. 

 

"Keith, come on buddy you have to stay with me." He hooked Keith's bayard at his side and plopped his helmet on his head, grimacing when Keith only groaned in response. "I know. I know, but-" 

 

The sound of scratching at the hull, explosions, growling. "Red…"  _ She must be throwing a fit. _ "Keith, wake the  _ fuck _ up. Your cat mom's going to kill you." As if on cue, Keith only went limper and didn't respond. Lance huffed in frustration, grunting as he hauled Keith up and over his shoulder, careful to mind the gash in his stomach, before picking up his gun and emerging from the deck. The emergency sirens were blaring and the hallways seemed empty - Lance guessed everyone had evacuated or had gone to fight the other lions since Keith was down for the count. His breath caught in his throat as the ship lurched sideways, gasping as his and Keith's weight landed on his shoulder, but still, he rolled it out and ran down the hallway towards the commotion Red was making. 

 

He skid to a stop once a group of guards ran past, turning to run for cover as they shouted after him. 

 

"He has the Red Paladin!" Lance had just made it behind cover as the laser blasts came towards him and Keith, and he leaned over as he caught his breath, leaning on his gun as he readjusted Keith on his shoulder. The footsteps of the guardsmen were getting closer - he couldn't stay there forever, so he began to run again towards the escape pods, glancing out the large windows to gauge what was going on outside. 

 

The Castle of Lions had its shield up and was firing away, all the lions but Keith's raging in formation - every time the noise of the laser fire paused he could hear the Paladins communicating through Keith's helmet. Once in the emergency bay, he checked all the doors but his heart sank every time a hatch opened and a pod was gone. 

 

"Fuck." He whimpered, going to the next, and then the next, until he was at the end of the corridor and at the last pod. "Please, please, please." 

 

And when the hatch opened; "Lance." 

 

It was Lotor. 

 

Lance resisted the urge to drop Keith, not even raising his gun as they stared at each other. Lotor didn't look surprised or betrayed or hurt. He seemed entirely unfazed, but that's what shook Lance the most; that he was quaking in his boots and Lotor was watching him like he was watching paint dry. 

 

"Going somewhere?" Lotor was standing right in front of the launch pad for the last escape pod, in Lance's way, in  _ Keith's way _ . Lance reflexively shook his head, swallowing thickly and hitching Keith up on his shoulder. Could he drop Keith and pretend this never happened? Come up with an excuse as to why he was carrying Keith's body? Or even bring Keith onto the escape pod with them and find a way to eject him towards Red? 

 

Lotor stood there, watching the gears turn in Lance's head. 

 

"I was just…" All of the improvisational quick thinking Lance had ever done wasn't helping him here. There wasn't a good excuse. "I'm sorry-"

 

"May I ask why?" The thing Lance had learned about Lotor was that he was very much the talking type; fast as a whip with a sword but still willing to sit down and have a conversation with you. Lance wondered if he ever had Lotor fooled - he certainly wasn't acting anywhere near surprised, though every time Lance looked up from his boots he thought he could catch the slightest glint of hurt, it was always gone before Lance could really register it. 

 

"I realized…" Lance trailed off, trying to bring his thoughts together but they were frazzled, his attention ringing with Red's growling and the explosions from outside - the sound of metal being torn open and the lurching of the ship. "I realized," he repeated, trying to keep the lump in his throat from surfacing as the sounds from the Paladins buzzed in his ears from Keith's helmet, "I would've been better off dead." 

 

The look on Lotor's face changed then, his mask slipping from neutral to hurt. 

 

In the back of Lance's mind, Red's growling grew closer. 

 

"I'm sorry." He backed away, tripping over his own feet as Lotor unsheathed his sword. 

 

" _ No. _ " It was almost a growl that tore through Lotor's throat, and Lance could feel tears stinging the corners of his eyes as the emergency bay was blasted apart, smashing the button at his belt to activate his helmet and clutching tight to Keith as the vacuum of space tugged them both away from Lotor and away from the escape pod. Lance could only watch as Lotor was whisked away, cape and all until he was out of sight. 

 

He took a moment to catch his breath, chest heaving as he tried to think about what to do now, feeling Red's ever-present grumbling in his bones. 

 

And when he opened his eyes she was there, glaring fiercely at him as he clutched onto Keith. Still, she made no move towards him, and even though he wanted to greet her, or say  _ something _ , all he did was push Keith towards her, knowing that regardless of which way Keith ended up she would protect him. They stared at each other, Lance with tear stains on his cheeks and Red with chipped paint and rust adorning her bolts. He felt like her, for just a moment. 

 

Then she was lunging at him and he squeezed his eyes shut to prepare for  _ something _ ; lava, fire, a swift smack from her claw - he would've welcomed any of it - but when the weight of gravity hit him he realized he was in her cockpit. She'd swallowed Keith  _ and him _ . 

 

"No. No no no no, Red.  _ Red _ ." She meowed at him in defiance and Lance pushed himself to his feet, moving past where Keith was slumped against the console and banging on the door to the cockpit. " _ No. You can't take me back. _ " He felt like he couldn't breathe, and he punched the button on his belt to release his helmet, gasping in the oxygen from the ship and resting his forehead against the doors. 

 

He thought about Hunk, and Pidge, and Shiro, and Coran, and  _ Allura _ . He was never going to be able to look her in the face ever again, it would be easier for him to die right here. " _ Red, please, _ " he sobbed, but she was already moving back towards the castle.  _ Just leave me to die. _ He was so lightheaded, his eyes darting around for a way to force the door open. " _ Just leave me to die, Red. _ " 

 

"Keith!" Shiro's voice over the ship's coms. Lance fell to his knees, covering his head with his hands as he hiccupped and gasped for air. " _... Lance? _ "  

 

And then he passed out.

 

* * *

 

"Mama…" Lance glanced around the kitchen, bare feet tip-tapping on the tile as he looked around for his mother. "Ma…" He looked out the window to the garden, rubbing at his puffy eyes as he avoided looking at Daniel, who was sitting at the counter eating cereal and stewing in anger from their encounter earlier. "Did ma leave for work already?" 

 

Daniel only shrugged, and Lance resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he made his way towards his sister's room down the hallway. Valeria had gotten a job as a flight attendant, so she was always gone, off traveling and trying to make a living for herself. Lance had only been in her room once since he'd gotten back, and that once still wasn't enough to stop the jarring feeling in his chest at the sight of it. 

 

No boy band posters, no colorful duvet or pillow covers, all but two stuffed animals gone from the foot of her bed. Before he left for the Garrison Valeria's room had looked like a crayon box had thrown up in there, but now it looked like an ad from a magazine - with pristine white bed covers and a desk with a salt lamp, and polaroids hanging on clothespins in place of the old posters she'd thrown away. Lance took a deep breath and stepped inside, going to look at the pictures. There was a photo from Valeria's twentieth birthday, next to a photo of her holding his little cousin - whom he hadn't met until he'd come back. Daniel was in a lot of the pictures, and there were more than a few photos from their other sister's wedding, Araceli, which Lance had missed. 

 

There was one photo of Lance, looking starry-eyed and excited. He remembered taking that photo at the airport in his Garrison uniform, giving Valeria a piggy-back ride before they all trekked to drop him off on base; she was throwing up a peace sign with a big grin on her face, braces obstructing her teeth. Lance sighed and plucked it from the clothing pin, staring down at it before looking at all of the memories Valeria had that he'd missed. 

 

"I'm leaving for school." Daniel's voice came from the doorway, and Lance nodded, turning to give him a sad smile. He still looked mad, avoiding eye contact and his arms crossed over his chest stubbornly. 

 

"Okay. Walk Lina today, please." Lance placed the photo back on the clothes pin before going to take the string of photos down. 

 

"What are you doing?" Daniel asked. 

 

"Getting started on moving your room so that it's done when you get back." Lance set the photos aside before going to start breaking down all of the furniture. "Get going before you're late, buddy." He looked at Daniel over his shoulder, and his brother nodded solemnly before disappearing from the doorway, and he could hear the front door close and lock behind him and Rosalina. Lance took a deep breath, glancing back towards the photos - he should call his sisters soon and… apologize? Just catch up? He didn't know, but he felt like he needed to say something. 

 

Work had become mildly unbearable. 

 

Lance liked the routine the coffee stand provided, but ever since Marisol's wedding he hadn't heard from or seen Thalia. She still came by the stand, just not during his shift anymore, and every time his co-workers talked about her they sounded concerned. Lance wondered if he was the reason, but he hoped not, and he felt vain even conjuring up the idea that Thalia was still bothered by what happened weeks later. Maybe it was something else, yet Lance didn't have the courage to message her and ask if she was alright. She'd made her feelings pretty clear when she'd told him to get out of her condominium.

 

So work was boring, and Lance cleaned and cleaned twice and cleaned thrice in between the slow flow of late-night customers, with no more Thalia to fill his time during the usual lag. He was steadily adding more and more films to his list to occupy his time. 

 

Eventually, Thalia did come back during his shift, but not without a warning first. It came in the form of an apology card from one of his coworkers; there was nothing personally written inside, but Lance figured it was probably because she had no idea what to say. He figured that was fair. 

 

He'd happened to be scrolling through photos on his phone; ones he'd taken on The Castle of Lions during their down time. Pidge and Matt both pondering over a collection of wires Lance didn't know the uses for, Shiro staring very blatantly at Allura while she wasn't looking, Hunk proudly holding up a perfected dish he'd made, Keith pausing while putting his stupid mullet into a ponytail as he caught Lance taking a picture. That's where he lingered. 

 

He figured it was inevitable. Keith had the kind of time where he could regularly check up on Lance; it was only natural to feel a rekindling of attachment to him, even if butterflies  _ did _ beat their wings in his stomach every time Keith texted him and even if the cautious flirtation they had  _ for years now _ was picking up right where it left off. 

 

"Oh, he's a hottie. Swipe right." 

 

He was too used to Thalia sneaking up on him to be alarmed by it, but his heart did skip a beat in trepidation. He pushed himself from the counter, shoving his phone into his pocket and swallowing thickly as a dark cloud seemed to loom over him with her presence, even as he blushed furiously. 

 

"Hey, Thalia." He reached for a cup and got started making her coffee, unsure of what to say to her; unsure of how to make conversation now that Thalia knew that  _ something was wrong with him, truly.  _ She seemed a bit at a loss, too; chewing her lip anxiously and tapping her fingers against the counter sticking out of the window. The music playing over the speakers wasn't enough to ease the thick silence between them. 

 

Lance passed her her coffee, Thalia scanned her watch for payment. 

 

"Lance, I-..." She gripped her iced coffee to her chest, taking a deep breath. "Uhm-" 

 

"It's okay. Don't worry about it." He tried to give her a way out, but she shook her head, waving him off. 

 

"No. No, you deserve an apology. I-... don't completely understand what's going on with you,"  _ a lot, _ Lance thought, "but I reacted really horribly to what you told me. You didn't deserve me completely losing my shit. I want to believe you, I  _ do _ , because it's clear how much you believe yourself but I just… don't. I don't know how to do that." When Lance only stared at her she seemed to backtrack, wincing in regret. "I mean-. Shit, this is an awful apology. I'm sorry. For what happened initially and sorry that my apology is horrible." She looked down to her shoes, eyebrows pulled together. 

 

"It's… it's fine." His phone was charged, he could pull his phone out right now and show her. But the damage had already been done, and what were photos worth nowadays, anyways? For all she knew he could've doctored them - done something to skew things in his favor. 

 

He decided to keep his phone in his pocket. She still seemed unsatisfied, and Lance attempted to give her the best reassuring smile he could manage. She didn't seem convinced. "Really, I understand." 

 

Thalia heaved a deep sigh, scratching her head. "Okay… well, thanks for listening to me. I should go head home so I can sleep." 

 

"Okay." Lance agreed easily, the cloud over his head still looming in waiting. "Goodnight, Thalia." Thalia backed away, waving at him before shuffling over to her bike, setting her coffee in the cupholder, and then she was on her way.

 

It felt like a storm was brewing inside his head.

 

The good thing about working graveyard shift was that Lance got to spend time by himself - he'd started bringing the cube to work, as a way to ground himself and a way to make sure he doesn't start having an existential crisis in the middle of his shift. Just because everything here was real didn't mean everything  _ out there _ had to be fake, even if the farthest the Garrison had gotten was a research occupation on Kerberos. 

 

His co-workers started to shuffle in half asleep, greeting him and going about making their own coffees to get their day started. 

 

"Hey, Lance. You're good to go." The opening supervisor smiled at him, and he hummed, grabbing his tips and clocking out before stepping out of the stand and asking for an iced coffee for his walk home. 

 

Through the haze, he thought about calling Hunk - his best friend had been incredibly busy with school, and Lance almost never heard from him anymore except the occasional picture of homework that should've been too hard, or the occasional essay that said to talk about his personal experiences with him staring off into the distance in irritated irony. Still, whenever they talked they picked right back up where they left off, so Lance wasn't too perturbed by it. Hunk had a life of his own now, without Lance, and Lance was happy that he seemed to be doing better off. 

 

He tugged his phone out from his pocket and went back to scrolling through pictures, and again he found himself lingering every time he got to Keith's face. In all honesty, Lance didn't have the energy to be annoyed at himself about it. He completely stopped at a selfie he'd taken of himself and Keith. He distinctly remembered that he'd been  _ trying _ to annoy Keith, but Keith had taken it in stride - had gone so far as to press a kiss to Lance's cheek. 

 

It was a blurry picture because Lance had been  _ shocked _ , which was apparent from his red face in the photo, but he still kept it. Briefly, he thought about setting it as his background, but when he flipped to the next picture that had been taken on accident - with Lance fuming and Keith laughing openly in his face - he decided he wanted to keep it to himself. 

 

"Hey, honey. How was work?" His mom was always up and at it early, cleaning and making breakfast before her shift at the hotel. 

 

"Boring," he sighed, setting his keys on the rack and making his way upstairs without another word. His mom decidedly left him alone, because he'd been on a short wire since punching Miguel and they all seemed nervous around him now. Lance shrugged his hoodie off, tugging the cube from his pocket and setting it and his unfinished coffee on the desk, kicking his jeans off and climbing under the covers. 

 

But he didn't fall asleep.


	4. spinning in ether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do you usually dream about?" Keith asked finally. Lance took a deep breath, putting his phone on speaker and setting his phone down so that he could rub his eyes with the heels of his palms. 
> 
> "Lotor. Sometimes," he muttered. Keith remained quiet. Lance wondered if he had nothing to say or if he was waiting for Lance to continue. "I know- I know what I did was for Voltron from the beginning but I-..." He took a deep breath. "I think the most awful thing Lotor ever did to me was befriend me." 
> 
> Heavy silence. Keith was still chewing, but quieter this time. "Do you regret it? Betraying him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for minor character death.
> 
> otherwise, hope you enjoy!

_"Did he twitch? I think he just twitched."_

 

_"Why is he even in there? Won't he just go right back into his panic attack when he comes out?"_

 

_"... I don't know."_

 

One of the voices was Hunk's, Lance could recognize it even as it floated and drifted at the edge of his consciousness - he didn't recognize the other voice, his brain trying to place it for a minute and then promptly giving up.

 

_"He's still twitching, I think we should open it."_

 

_"Are you sure?"_

 

_"What if he wakes up and he's still in there? And it just triggers him more and he freaks out again and then we have to go through this process all over again-"_

 

_"Okay, okay. We'll open it, Hunk."_

 

There was hissing as the airlock released, and Lance could feel warmth begin to bore into his skin as the glass of the healing pod slid downwards. Lance leaned against the edge of the pod as he got control of his limbs back, feeling weak and disoriented. Within the next moment Hunk was next to him, helping hold his weight as he helped Lance out of the pod - he was warm, familiar against Lance's side. Lance kind of wanted to cry.

 

"Hey, buddy. How're you feeling?" Hunk helped him sit down, and Lance accepted the blanket that someone placed over his shoulders.

 

"Okay…" It sounded more like a question than an answer, and he glanced back to see Pidge. No… they were too tall to be Pidge. "Matt…?"

 

"Hey, Lance." His smile was almost identical to Pidge's, nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. If he were wearing glasses Lance wouldn't have made the connection. "You sent me that signal, right?" Lance's brain was definitely not working fast enough for any kind of conversation. "Thanks. I'm not sure Katie and I would've found each other without your help. It's a big universe, you know."

 

 _Oh._ He was talking about when Lance had risked his life to send coordinates to Matt's rebel ship, and well… that wasn't anything, really. Where was the resistance now? Going on without Matt? Lance had a lot of questions and no energy to ask any of them.

 

"No problem…" he muttered, giving Hunk a weak smile as he was handed a hot cup of tea. He was about to take a sip, but then thought of Lotor, and decided to just cradle it to keep his hands warm. "Thanks."

 

"Good to have you back." Hunk's smile was genuine and nervous, and Lance shifted uncomfortably as the doors to the control room opened.

 

"Where is he?" Allura had her angry voice on, which meant that she probably _wasn't happy_ that Lance was here. But Lance already knew she wouldn't be; while their relationship had gotten better it still wasn't great, and no matter his motive he knew she must be furious with him. Hunk straightened up, crossing his arms and standing protectively in front of Lance as he turned to face her. Matt did the same. "I told both of you to take him to the dungeon as soon as he woke up." She was still advancing, and Lance didn't notice Shiro until he was gripping her shoulder and pulling her back.

 

"Hang on, Princess. Maybe you should think about this some more-"

 

"There's nothing to think about! It's been over a year and yet he just waltzes back in here and-"

 

"He saved Keith's life! And mine! Multiple times!" Hunk cut in, and Lance felt his heart swell. But if he were honest, he was with Allura on this.

 

"He could've done that _on our side_." Allura's gaze zeroed in on where Lance carefully stood up, leaning on Hunk's shoulder as the blanket slipped from his form.

 

"It's okay. I'll go." Lance stepped around his best friend, handing Hunk the tea and slumping his way over to Allura and Shiro.

 

"Lance…" Hunk's voice cracked, and Lance couldn't stop himself from turning to look at him; he looked on the verge of tears, but Lance gave him a reassuring smile, even though it faltered when Allura cuffed him. It took a lot to resist the urge to make a joke about it, but this situation was serious and a joke would probably just get him in more trouble.

 

"Princess…" Shiro murmured, but she'd already made up her mind, pushing Lance along and out of the command center and towards the elevator. Shiro followed after them, eyebrows furrowed in conflict as they made their way down down down, until they got to the dungeons. Lance had only been down there once, when exploring the castle with Pidge, but it had given him the heebie-jeebies and so he'd always avoided it afterward. Lance could feel his feet begin to drag in reluctance, the dark lighting bringing back memories of his time in the Xarcadian Galaxy. Still, Allura pushed him along, throwing him with a force he'd only seen in combat into the cell before slamming the button to activate the bars behind him, and then turning on her heel and making her way back towards the exit.

 

"Come on, Shiro," she beckoned, and Lance watched as he glanced between the two of them with conflict written all over his face.

 

"I'll send Hunk down with some food, okay?" It was as if Hunk's food could make up for keeping Lance locked up and imprisoned, but… then again it was Hunk's cooking, so maybe it could.

 

"Thanks." Lance didn't meet his eyes though, taking a seat on the old, useless cot and drawing his knees up to his chest. Shiro lingered for a moment in his peripheral, but then Allura called to him again and he walked away, the door closing heavy and loud with his exit.

 

Lance took a deep breath, burying his face in his knees and trying to block the atmosphere out. He'd messed up. He'd really, _really_ messed up. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, rocking back and forth and singing under his breath to try to calm himself down, but it was long enough for Hunk to make him food and bring it down, the Yellow Paladin slipping the plate through the bars and sitting down on the floor on the other side with a plate of his own. Lance gave him a quiet thank you and then dug in, moaning in satisfaction as all of the flavors hit his tongue, and even though he wanted to savor it he still scarfed it down. Hunk was still eating when Lance finished, so he just began to fidget with the black and purple material of his space suit.

 

"Allura's super pissed," he sighed. Hunk hummed, smiling around his fork.

 

"She's always pissed at you." And well, that was true, but both of them knew it was different this time. "Oh! Here." Hunk stuck his tongue out as he dug through his pockets before throwing a key through the bars. Lance eagerly picked it up and undid the handcuffs, rubbing gingerly at his wrists and sighing.

 

"How's Keith?" Lance realized he hadn't seen Keith while on deck, but maybe he'd just been too disoriented to notice him in a different healing pod. It's not like he'd been awake for long.

 

"Alive. Somehow." Hunk spoke with his mouth full. "He said you cauterized his wound? It was pretty gnarly." Lance nodded his head, tugging his sleeves over his hands and sighing. "... Why?"

 

For some reason, Lance felt like there were multiple reasons Hunk was asking him that question. "To what, specifically?"

 

Hunk flushed, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched out his legs and leaned back against the wall, adjusting the bandana around his head. "Why did you save Keith? We'll… start with that." He gave a sheepish smile, and Lance glanced down at his boots, tapping them together.

 

"I… Even though I was supposed to be working against you I still wanted you to win." Lance straightened his legs, letting his head lean back against the cool metal of the cell. "And I felt responsible, I guess? Because I knew if I were still there Keith and I probably would've been on that mission together and I-... I wasn't. There." He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, avoiding looking at Hunk.

 

"So, why did you join Lotor?" Lance winced, immediately remembering the look on the prince's face when Lance had chosen Keith over him.

 

"I thought… working from the inside was better than being dead. I don't know about that now." Lance didn't dare look at Hunk, but he could feel the other man staring at him through the heavy silence.

 

"How could you think that?" There was anxiety in Hunk's tone. "I don't know what we would've done without you, Lance. Keith would've been dead a long time ago and- probably the rest of us, too! And you sent us Matt! We were having a weird time with Allura as a paladin… she's better as a princess. But anyways, Lance… Stop avoiding eye contact. Look at me." Lance glanced sideways at Hunk, blinking back tears as Hunk's brown eyes met his. "You saved all of us. Even if we weren't working _together_ , we _still_ made a great team. And you were still a part of it." The waterworks started, then, and he broke the eye contact to wipe the tears from his eyes. Hunk groaned in frustration, patting around in his pockets.

 

"I wish I had my tools with me. I want to let you out of there so bad." Hunk sighed in frustration, staring down the activation pad with disdain. Lance laughed slightly and shook his head.

 

"No, I don't want to make Allura madder. Thanks though, buddy." Lance carefully slipped an arm through the bars and Hunk took his hand, his grip warm and familiar even through his gloves.

 

"I'll bring you blankets, then." Hunk released his hand to stand up, dusting the seat of his pants and sighing, glancing down at Lance with a dissatisfied look on his face. "We're going to get you out. Allura will have to get over it."

 

Lance hummed. "Don't test her or else you'll be down here, too." He laughed, even though he was completely serious. Hunk sighed.

 

"I'll see you later." He reached for Lance's plate and he handed it back, watching Hunk leave with his heart in his throat.

 

"Tell me when Keith wakes up!" He called after him, and Hunk gave an affirmative hum before the door closed behind him.

 

Two days passed by in much the same fashion, with Pidge coming down to check on him and Hunk bringing him food. Each time he would ask what had happened to Keith, because he'd risked _everything_ for that hot-head and now he was probably going to be in Allura's prison until he died, but Keith still hadn't woken up.

 

On the third day, the emergency alarms went off, and panic seemed to surge through the ship, but then Pidge and Hunk were put in the cell with Lance for the day before being released for trying to create a diversion to get Lance out. Lance suspected that it was supposed to be harder for them to leave than for them to go in initially, because they were reluctant to leave him alone after Lance had started to tell them stories about Prince Lotor's ship and Allura didn't seem surprised or perturbed in the least.

 

On the fourth day there was a new pair of footsteps - too light to be Shiro, Matt maybe? - but then Keith came into view, not even greeting Lance as he strolled right up to the activation pad, typing something into it and crossing his arms over his chest when the bars dissipated. Lance stared at him, eyes wide in confusion as they looked at each other.

 

"Let's go. Before I leave you in there." Lance hesitantly accepted the hand Keith offered him, letting the Red Paladin tug him to his feet and shifting nervously as he stepped through the threshold.

 

"Where's Allura?" Lance questioned, and Keith shrugged his shoulders.

 

"Does it matter?" It kind of did. "You saved my life. I'm not leaving you down here. Come on." And then Keith was making his way towards the exit. Lance could just stay; wait for someone else to come down and reactivate the bars, but freedom sounded so good and there were _creepy noises down here_ whenever he was alone and he didn't want to deal with them when he didn't have the protection of the bars. Lance trailed after him, skittering closer as a weird noise came from the old power cell in the corner. The elevator ride up felt long and too quiet, and Lance wasn't really sure what to say, or what to do, so he just kept following Keith until they got to his room, slipping inside.

 

"I don't know how I feel about this, Keith," Lance admitted, toying nervously with his suit as Keith rummaged through his drawers.

 

"Why?" He threw a shirt at Lance's face, and then a pair of pants, and Lance caught them in his arms clumsily.

 

"Because? I'm like, a war prisoner or something." Lance made to hit Keith with the shirt, but when Keith didn't react it didn't bring the satisfaction he was looking for.

 

"My blood is still on your armor. Take a shower and then we'll talk." Keith motioned for the bathroom and Lance sighed, taking the clothes inside and shutting the door behind him. Admittedly, the shower was nice; the hot water soothing his sore muscles and calming him down even though he didn't have anything to be worried about quite yet. Allura probably wouldn't even notice he wasn't there for a while, and knowing Pidge and Hunk they weren't going to tell her he wasn't there. Could he hide in Keith's room for the rest of his life? Allura was sure to notice eventually.

 

He didn't dare look at himself in the mirror as he climbed out, grabbing the towel and ruffling his hair and drying his body before grabbing the clothes and well-. He opened the door.

 

"Keith, I-" He got a faceful of underwear this time. "Thanks…" He dropped the towel without a thought and pulled the underwear up and over his form, scratching at the back of his neck as he wandered back into the room with the clothes in his arms, studying them carefully. He doesn't know why; they're literally just another pair of the exact same clothes Keith was wearing; black t-shirt and black pants. He felt a hand on his back and he squirmed away in surprise, whirling to face Keith's surprised expression.

 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out," he apologized. Lance shrugged his shoulders, fidgeting under Keith's gaze as it trailed over his torso. "What happened to your back?"

 

Lance cringed as he remembered the crackling of the electricity against his skin, chewing his lip as he reached an arm back to feel the scar that ran it's way from his shoulder to his opposite hip. "Uhm-... torture happened, I guess," he deflected. Keith continued staring, and Lance sighed, turning back around so that Keith could see the scar, slipping his hands into the armholes of the shirt so that he could pull it over his head as soon as Keith stopped being stubborn. Keith's fingers trailed lightly down the contours of his back, leaving goosebumps behind as he traced the scar. Lance shivered, swallowing thickly when Keith's fingers skittered back up, presumably to trace the other lightning like scars covering his skin. His head drooped, something churning low in his gut when Keith chuckled.

 

"Feel nice?" Lance wasn't used to this weird, affectionate, touchy Keith. _Sure_ , if Lance used him as an armrest he never complained but he'd never really touched back.

 

"Maybe," he admitted, tugging the shirt over his head so he could cover his torso, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling especially like Keith; in Keith's t-shirt, in Keith's room, crossing his arms like a petulant child. Keith's eyes were shining with amusement, and Lance shifted on his feet, face going red when Keith tugged up the hem of his shirt to expose the scar on his stomach.

 

"Holy _shit_ , Keith." Lance reeled away, schema driving his brain right back to the moment he had to cauterize the wound shut, closing his eyes against the darkened and scarring skin, the memory of Keith's screaming ringing in his ear.

 

"Hey, hey it's okay. It's just a memory, we're fine." Keith grabbed his hand and tugged him closer, and Lance tried to heave breath into his lungs as he shook. Keith placed Lance's hand over the scar, hand over his. "See? All closed up." Lance's breathing began to steady, and he slowly blinked his eyes open, gaze forced downwards as he realized how close they were. Keith removed his hand from Lance's and Lance gingerly dragged his finger over the skin. Keith's breath hitched, but otherwise, he didn't react.

 

"I'm sorry, you have this huge scar and I-"

 

" _Lance._ " Their noses brushed when Lance picked his head up to look Keith in the eye, his heart leaping up into his throat. "I'm _alive_ because of you." Lance stepped away, swallowing thickly and running his fingers through his hair.

 

"You probably wouldn't have been in that situation in the first place though if-" Keith threw the pants at him again, and it promptly shut Lance up, even though he wasn't happy about it. He had his arms crossed and he looked irritated. "Can't you just accept my apology?" Lance shouted suddenly, as if it would help anything, as if yelling at Keith was going to change things.

 

"There's nothing to apologize about!" Keith shouted back. They both glared at each other, stewing in frustration until Lance realized he was still pantsless and tugged on the pants that Keith threw at him. He couldn't stay serious though, because they were dressed the same and Lance felt like he was in The Twilight Zone, hiding from Allura in _Keith's bedroom_ while wearing Keith's clothes, a war prisoner on a ship he used to roam freely. He must've gone crazy. This couldn't be real. Keith ruffled his hair in exasperation, motioning towards his bed tiredly. "Get some rest. Sleeping down there couldn't have been comfortable." Lance took a deep breath, carefully sitting at the edge of Keith's bed still as a statue. "I'll talk to Allura, too. In the meantime hang tight, okay?" Keith gave him a tight smile.

 

"Okay…" Lance watched Keith leave, sitting there awkwardly on his mattress as he glanced around the room. There was nothing to take in except the red jacket hanging up in the corner, so he was quick to stop being curious and situate himself on Keith's bed, staring up at the ceiling stock still.

 

* * *

 

When he got off work a few days later there was a missed call from Keith, but no voicemail or text from him. He pressed the Call Back button, rubbing at his eyes as he slipped into his slipper-socks and shuffled around his room tiredly. It took a couple of rings, but then Keith picked up with a distracted-sounding _hello?_

 

"Hey, Keith." Lance sat back down on his bed, bringing his knees up to his chest.

 

"Hey. How are you doing?" It threw Lance off for just a moment, because he'd immediately forgot why he'd called in the first place.

 

"Fine. I just got off work." He leaned his head back on the wall, shutting his eyes. "You called?"

 

There was shuffling on Keith's end of the line, loud clanging, a grunt from him, and then; "Yeah. Just wanted to catch up with you and see how you're holding up. It's been awhile since we last talked and we both weren't really in a great place, so." His voice was strained. Lance debated asking Keith what he was up to; it would be a distraction from the impending conversation, but Keith wasn't nice enough (like Hunk) to accept the redirection.

 

"I'm…" How _was_ Lance doing? Numb, maybe. Between feeling nothing and feeling exhausted; he suspects if he were to go out and interact with people he'd be a hair's breadth away from having a mental breakdown. "Getting over a fever. So not great." It was true, at least. Keith hummed, more shuffling, rolling - Lance could hear crisp rapid Spanish in the background, then Keith responding in English. More rolling, the quiet hiss of a door sliding open and closed.

 

"Alright. How're you doing emotionally? Mentally?" Lance wondered how in the hell he was having this conversation with Keith, of all people, when the first moment they truly met Keith seemed as emotionally inept as a spoon.

 

"... Trying," Lance said after a moment, "Sometimes I'm fine, you know? Sometimes everything seems fine and normal and then my brain just switches gears and I forget where I'm at. But, I didn't have any bad dreams last night and that's good."

 

Keith hummed, Lance could hear him chewing something and it was mildly annoying. "What do you usually dream about?" Keith asked finally. Lance took a deep breath, putting his phone on speaker and setting his phone down so that he could rub his eyes with the heels of his palms.

 

"Lotor. Sometimes," he muttered. Keith remained quiet. Lance wondered if he had nothing to say or if he was waiting for Lance to continue. "I know- I know what I did was for Voltron from the beginning but I-..." He took a deep breath. "I think the most awful thing Lotor ever did to me was befriend me."

 

Heavy silence. Keith was still chewing, but quieter this time. "Do you regret it? Betraying him?" Keith asked. Lance's eyebrows pulled together in thought, and he shook his head after a moment.

 

"No. No, I don't. Our friendship wasn't more important than the universe's suffering. It shouldn't have been hard but… it had been, and I hate it." He could feel tears welling up in his eyes; they rolled down his face, fat and warm, landing on his lap and darkening the fabric of his shirt. "And then that whole thing with the cave in and I can't believe he even let go of me I just-"

 

"Lance-"

 

"No! I hate myself. I hate myself for letting him do that to me and-. He knew what he was doing, he _knew exactly_ what he was doing and I could tell he knew but I still-"

 

" _Lance, listen to me._ " Lance only paused because he needed to breathe, taking in a shaky breath. "Are you listening to me?"

 

"Yes."

 

" _You_ are not the things he did." Lance's fingers tangled into his hair, trying to concentrate on Keith's words. "Zarkon, Lotor, all of them? That all began before we were even alive. And Lotor's problems weren't all about you. Those issues could've started forever ago, alright? None of that was your fault." Lance tugged at his roots. "Say that; it wasn't your fault."

 

"It wasn't my fault," Lance breathed, then repeated it twice, three times.

 

"Good," Keith sighed. They remained quiet, the only sound Lance's sniffling and Keith's chewing. Lance wasn't sure how long he was sitting there crying, but Keith was saying nothing and maybe it was better that way. There wasn't really anything he could say to make Lance feel better, in all honesty. "You know," Keith finally said, "I've never been to Cuba."

 

Lance snorted, the sound wet and gross as his sinuses cleared with it. "No?" He would accept the subject change - he knew keeping everything in wasn't good for him but he didn't really feel like crying anymore.

 

"No. I've been thinking about going to see you." Hesitant, quiet; definitely not the Keith that Lance was used to.

 

"To see Cuba?" Lance wiped his hands over his face, drying his tears before picking his phone back up and turning speaker off, putting the phone on his ear. He could hear Keith swallow, could hear him shuffling.

 

"No. To see you," Keith restated. Lance felt his breath catch in his throat. He could suddenly remember all of the late night talks in the castle kitchen, laughing in front of the holonavigation, staring out into space with his head resting on Keith's shoulder as he remembered home, as Keith remembered _something_. His chest felt tight with all of it, and he was very quick to dismiss the memory of Keith's fingers on his face, tenderly spreading the facemask over the bridge of his nose.

 

"Oh." His voice cracked, and he rushed to clear his throat. "Wh-when?" Because now that Keith had put the idea in his head Lance felt like he couldn't wait. Finally, someone who would understand what he was going through to some degree, someone who had been there with him to watch the destruction and heartbreak.

 

"I mean, I haven't really looked at flights," Lance reached for his tablet as Keith spoke, rushing to type in the password, "But if it's on short notice I'm sure it'll be expensive so it might take me a bit regardless. I have money left over from working in the U.S. but I don't want to go over there broke, you know?" He could feel Keith slipping through his fingers as he scrolled.

 

"I'm looking up flights. Where are you?" He chewed at his lip, putting Havana into the search bar and tapping his fingers against his keyboard impatiently.

 

"Chihuahua. Mexico." He could hear shuffling, rolling, the sound of a power drill on Keith's end as he searched.

 

"A flight two weeks from now. 200 currency." Lance stated. Keith hummed thoughtfully, and Lance could basically hear him weighing his options.

 

"Alright. I'll figure something out." There was another hissing of a door opening, more power drilling.

 

"You'd-..." Lance swallowed, voice thick with nervousness. "You'd really come?"

 

"Yeah," Keith said, almost too quickly. He rushed to make it sound better; "If-... if you want me to, of course…" He sounded just as nervous. Lance felt like _something_ was happening and he didn't want to make much out of it, but it was hard not to.

 

"I want you to come. To see me." He stumbled over the words, feeling his face grow warm as he moved his gaze away from the tablet in his hands. Keith sighed, and Lance could feel the talons in his chest dig themselves deeper. "I didn't know how much I might need that until you mentioned it, Keith, but I-... I can ask my mom if you can stay with us and-" he bit his lip to stop himself from rambling, but then forced himself to continue, " _Please_ . I need some sense of normalcy." His voice dropped to a whisper. " _Please_."

 

Keith groaned, and Lance resisted the urge to hang up in embarrassment. "Okay," Keith agreed, finally. "Okay. Consider everything done. I'll figure it all out soon."

 

"Yeah, yeah." Lance cut him off without a thought, feeling a smile tug at his lips. He pressed the lock button on his tablet and hugged it to his chest. "You're not leaving Cuba after this, I hope you know. You're going to love it." Lance hadn't thought of the implications of his statement when he'd first said it; that Keith was going to stay with him and that Keith could quit his Eat Pray Love journey because Lance had been the missing piece he'd been looking for since they'd gotten back.

 

"I'll take your word for it." Keith's laugh filled Lance's entire stomach and chest with warmth, and his toes curled in reflex.

 

Lance sighed in content and nodded his head. "Good."

 

He'd forgotten he was tired until he hung up the phone call with Keith and pushed himself to his feet, vertigo flying across his vision and teetering dangerously on his feet, reaching for the bed to steady himself. He waited for the room to stop spinning before stepping out of the room and slowly making his way down the steps. His mom was in the back garden, planting flowers and pulling weeds, when he wandered into the kitchen.

 

"Lance, weren't you going to bed?" Her eyebrows were drawn together in concern, pulling her gloves off and patting down her skirt as she stood up and made her way inside. Lance only resisted the urge to ignore her because he had to ask her about Keith.

 

"My friend is coming to Varadero soon. Is it okay if he stays with us?" It would be better if he didn't mention the fact that the trip was solely to see Lance, just so that she would agree easier.

 

"A friend?" It was an innocent question, but Lance still blushed up to his ears, opening the refrigerator and going to get the plate his mom had saved for him.

 

"Keith, from the Garrison," he supplied. His mom hummed, watching him warily as she stepped back out onto the porch to tend to the garden boxes, placing her gloves back on her hands.

 

"The boy you used to gripe about?" She wasn't looking at him anymore, even when he squawked indignantly and dropped his fork onto the floor. And yet, he couldn't deny it because she was _right_. He used to gripe about Keith all the time when he would call home - she hadn't forgotten even though that felt like forever ago.

 

"I-... I guess." Lance wondered how Keith would react if he knew that Lance had talked about him so much. It was bad enough that Pidge and Hunk had brought it up at every moment possible. His mom wouldn't do him dirty like that, would she?

 

"Well, he can stay as long as he likes." Lance hadn't really expected his mom to say no, but he hadn't expected her to say yes so easily, either. "Maybe having someone you can relate to around will help you." And well, the cat was out of the bag on that one. When she looked up at him her eyes were warm and sad, and Lance wished he could make her understand how he felt without exposing everything that happened to him. He didn't think telling his mom that he'd been on the brink of death on multiple occasions, had killed hundreds of thousands of lifeforms, had been tortured and starved for days or weeks, would make his mom feel any better.

 

"Y-yeah. I think it will, too." He wanted to kiss her cheeks, hold her hand until all of the love he was feeling for her was pouring out and she could feel it, but when he pulled his food out of the microwave his stomach churned at the smell he decided against it. "I-... don't think I'm ready to eat this yet, mama." He put it back in the refrigerator, feeling queasy with the memories. "Love you, ma. And thank you. I'll tell Keith you said he can stay." He jogged his way up the steps, shutting the door to his room and trying to catch his breath as he plopped onto the bed.

 

* * *

 

The earth quaked under Lance's feet, breath heavy with anxiety as he locked eyes with Lotor. They both bolted, the sound of debris falling behind them heavy in their ears, down the tracks, and towards the exit, the floor crumbling beneath their feet.

 

Lance lost track of time as they ran, legs going on autopilot as light finally appeared at the end of the tunnel. He picked his pace up, lungs rattling as he sprinted towards the end.

 

The entrance began to crumble. "No." Lance pleaded, trying to push his limbs even faster but it was no use; the entrance was blocked by the time he got there and the floor was gradually crumbling with it, obstructing their path back. "Pidge we have a problem," he wheezed, and there was a pause in the frantic directions coming over the coms.

 

"Lance? Where've you been what's going on?"

 

It felt weird to be standing there talking to her with Lotor coming up on him fast, but he didn't have time to dwell on it because then the ground was crumpling beneath the prince's feet and he was falling.

 

In a lapse of judgment - or perhaps a moment of panic - Lance reached out to him, snatching at Lotor's wrist and groaning as the weight pulled him forwards, the force of Lotor's initial fall causing the already weak ground to crumble beneath him and send them both plummeting.

 

"Lance?" Pidge's voice again, but he was too busy trying to mash the button for his jets but they were burnt out from his trek down the tracks.

 

"Shit. _Shit._ " They flipped and tumbled for but a moment, clinging onto each other's wrists, until Lance tugged his bayard from his side and dug it into the wall. He felt his shoulder give as they skidded to a stop - but then the bayard slipped from his grip and they were falling again, Lance desperately clawing the wall with his free hand until finally, he found another grip, coming to a halting stop with both of them groaning as they collided against the wall, the glove on Lance's hand tearing.

 

Whatever rock he'd found purchase on had sliced his hand, and his nerves protested for a moment as he struggled to breathe through the pain. "Pidge, the entrance is blocked." His voice shook.

 

Pidge swore over the coms. He could hear gunfire, Black's roaring, could feel Blue's worry. "Me and Green will come get you. What about Lotor? Did you lose him?"

 

The coms were silent with anticipation as Lance looked down at the prince, whose careful neutral expression was broken and was being taken over with badly concealed worry.

 

"No. He's here." Lance stated, looking back up to where his bayard was stuck.

 

"You caught him?" Her shock was apparent.

 

"Not exactly, but sure. Just hurry up, please." He gritted out, hand aching and sending a tingle down his limbs. Did the healing pods fix nerve damage?

 

Again the coms picked back up, and Lance ignored them, trying to block out everything, including the pain radiating all throughout his body as Lotor clung to him.

 

Silence, and then; "You're going to turn me in, then?"

 

Lance glanced down at him but had to look away soon after, swallowing thickly. "Yeah…" He squeezed his eyes shut. The air was thick and tense.

 

"I remember when you were first brought to me," Lotor started. Lance sighed; Lotor always was one for talking. "Weak and softhearted. But I liked that about you. I knew I could mold you into someone better; stronger, faster, more ruthless. And here you are. All my work come to fruition."

 

Lance tutted. "I wouldn't call saving your life ruthless."

 

"But you know I would rather be dead than captured." Lance looked down at Lotor again. His purple eyes bore into Lance's, he looked like he might cry but was too stubborn to do so. Lance knew the feeling and tore his eyes away.

 

"I don't let my friends die."

 

Lotor laughed, sounding hysterical, and one of his hands let go of Lance's in defiance. Lance swallowed thickly and gripped on tighter to the one wrist he had. "Friend? You'd dare call me your friend?" Lotor hissed.

 

"We were." Lance insisted, feeling tears well up in his eyes. "But just because you were my friend doesn't mean I didn't hate what you were doing." They were both quiet. The chatter in Lance's coms was hesitant and aborted, and he knew they were listening to him. "Your dad's vision hurt people and you were so blinded by your need to please him that you couldn't pull your head out of your ass long enough to do anything different than him. It made me sick." Lance knew this was dangerous territory, but he had to say it. He had to say it while it was all built up in his chest. "It made me sick because it reminded me of myself."

 

The coms were deathly silent, and he could feel Lotor's fingers twitch around his wrist. "Do you think you're saving me, then? Do you think you're granting me with salvation?" Lance thought for a moment, as if he didn't already know the answer.

 

"No, I think it's too late." A lull in the conversation, and then Lotor let go of him and Lance groaned as he held on tight, refusing to let go. "Lotor, please." But the prince was wiggling his wrist free. "Don't do this, _please_ ." When he looked down it was clear that Lotor was crying, tear streaks on his face as he slowly slipped from Lance's fingers. "No. _No, please._ "

 

Then Lotor was free, _fallingfallingfalling_ until Lance couldn't see his face anymore, and then the inevitable cracking of bones on rock could be heard from where Lance was gripping on. Lance heaved in a breath, his head swarming with his name coming from the coms. "I'm fine. I'm alive, but he-."

 

Is Lotor even dead? He's probably dead. Lance doesn't know of anything that could survive that fall. Maybe Lotor would be fine.

 

He glanced down, but Lotor hadn't moved from where he'd fallen. "Pidge. Pidge are you almost here?" He felt like he couldn't breathe properly, tears soaking his face as he forced himself not to look down anymore.

 

"Yeah, yeah I'm almost there. Hold on." Pidge's voice was like a prayer in his ear. Lance struggled to get his other arm up, finally able to switch and relieve his torn up hand from its torture, but it only made it hurt worse. He groaned and stared down at his palm, and then stopped because the salt from his tears was burning the deep gash there. The entrance flooded with light as the rubble was broken through, and Lance stubbornly made himself keep his eyes on the wall as Green descended, lowering her jaw so that he could drop in. Pidge was on him in a second, burying her face into his chest plate as she clung to his waist.

 

"Hey, I'm okay…" He forced out a laugh, but it was useless. A fresh, heavy onslaught of tears was streaming down his face. Pidge shook her head and looked up at him; she was crying too.

 

"I thought you were dead," she reached up higher to hug around his neck, burying her face in his neck, "again…" it was muffled but clear. Lance sighed, wrapping his arms around her and shaking his head.

 

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

 

* * *

 

Days go by horribly slow when you're waiting for something good to happen, and things go by incredibly fast when a deadline you're dreading is coming up, but for Lance he felt somewhere in the middle - tumultuous between the excitement of getting to see Keith some time soon and living like he was bogged down by mud. The work hours dredged on like he was walking through cement - family time flickered by too quickly, and next thing he knew his weekend days off were over and it was back to the grind. He felt like he was in a dryer, getting tossed as time warped around him.

 

Days went by without incident or drama.

 

His shift seemed to dredge on, and while himself and Thalia were trying to find some sense of normalcy after Lance told her about Voltron at her condo, the conversation still felt too careful. She asked if the wedding pictures were nice, she asked if Marisol had liked his family's gift to her and her new husband, she asked how his siblings and parents were, but she never diverged into any other territory. Lance stuck to asking about her research and about her coworkers. It was safer that way.

 

"Okay, so. It's not different from a normal experiment. You have a bunch of different samples and you have your control. Because we're testing out different algae right now we have a whole lot of samples and aside from our control…" Admittedly, Lance began to zone out, humming and nodding his head as he kept cleaning. It wasn't that he was uninterested - it was just that Thalia has already told him about fifty times this same exact procedure. Sometimes Thalia reminded him of Pidge, excited with every fascinating change in absolutely everything she tested out. "... we're running into is that some of the lifeforms _consume_ algae and we don't want to compromise them or kill them off, so it's a struggle to-. Oh! Sorry. No one's usually here at this time so I was rattling away. Go ahead."

 

It was an apology Thalia made way too often for her to generalize that no one else came to the coffee stand at such an ungodly hour, but Lance was giving his spiel regardless.

 

"Hey, welcome to Seaside, what can I-"

 

As he looked up he very promptly dropped the rag he was holding onto the floor, heart giving a particularly hard _thump_ in his chest that seemed to knock the breath right out of him.

 

Keith stood on the other side of the open window, fingers hooked into the straps of his backpack and looking somewhere between his usual poutiness mixed in with nervousness. "Hey."

 

" _Oh_ . I-." He turned in place - about to leave the stand so he can go hug Keith, or _something_ , his brain was doing flip-flops and he was not entirely sure of how to react but he felt panicked and confused. "I didn't know you were coming this soon." He blurted out, the first time he'd spoken English in days, and stayed in the stand.

 

"Yeah. Sorry, I uh… sorry." Okay, blurting out random things was definitely not the right way to react.

 

"No don't apologize I just-. I don't get off for a couple of hours. Uh-. Do you want something to drink?" God, how was he supposed to talk to Keith again? Thalia looked somewhere between leaving and snickering, but Lance knew she was too curious and nosy to go. As soon as she met his eyes she was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

 

"Is this the _Tinder_ guy?" Thalia asked in Spanish, pointing at Keith conspicuously.

 

"I wasn't even _on Tinder_." He hissed back. He's pretty sure Keith can understand Spanish. One glance at Keith's flushing face was all he needed to confirm it. "Uh, Keith this is Thalia. Thalia, this is Keith."

 

Keith turned to introduce himself, and Lance used the moment of escape to make Keith an iced coffee, even though he'd never even confirmed if he wanted anything. Lance felt like he'd just been dropped into the middle of a frozen lake with no skates, trying to eavesdrop on Keith and Thalia's conversation.

 

Thalia seemed to be monopolizing, shoving her phone in Keith's face as soon as he'd asked her what she did that she was out here at 2 a.m. all the time. Somehow, Keith didn't seem put off, scrolling through the pictures she offered as she began to jabber his ear off.

 

"Keith, here's your coffee," Lance interrupted, and Keith turned away from his conversation with Thalia, blinking owlishly as Lance slid the cup across the counter to him.

 

"You didn't have to," he blushed. Lance felt like he was on fire.

 

"I'll take it back, then." He didn't know _why_ he was trying to pick a fight with Keith. He just didn't know what else to do and he was so flustered that he felt like a fish out of water.

 

"I didn't say I didn't want it." Keith snatched the coffee from the counter before Lance could grab it, taking a straw from the container. And then, more tenderly; "Thank you." He smiled. The butterflies in Lance's stomach felt more like pterodactyls.

 

"Yeah. No problem," he wheezed.

 

Thalia was calling for Keith's attention again - she would talk the ear off of anyone that was willing to listen to her; Lance was surprised that Keith seemed… not even resigned. Keith seemed like he was genuinely enjoying the conversation. Then again, Thalia was incredibly friendly and easy to get along with, so it wasn't much of a surprise. They'd wandered away from the stand, though, so Lance couldn't even hear their conversation anymore over the music playing. He watched, wary, as they sat down and Thalia continued to rattle off to Keith.

 

This went on for the rest of Lance's shift. Somewhere halfway through Thalia had pulled out her tablet and had begun to type furiously as Keith talked. Lance wondered if the sense of dread in his gut was reasonable, and every time a customer came up to the window he couldn't help but keep an eye on Keith and Thalia out his peripheral. Thalia didn't even look up from their conversation until Lance's coworkers began to trickle in to take over, waving hello to her as they walked by. She seemed surprised, realizing that it was starting to get light outside, and then packed up her tablet and giving Keith an enthusiastic hug before making her way over to the counter.

 

"See you, Lance!" Is all she said, before turning to walk away.

 

"Hey, hey, _hey_ . Wait." Lance hissed at her, reaching out the window to grab her hood, not even apologizing as she whined and turned back to the window. "What were you guys talking about for so long?" His whisper probably wasn't inconspicuous, but he didn't even care at this point. He was on the brink of freaking and he needed more than five seconds to mentally prepare himself for _actually entertaining Keith for as long as he was going to be here._

 

"Big Foot." Thalia shrugged.

 

Lance blanched.

 

He felt like crying.

 

"Are you fucking serious?"

 

Thalia twiddled her fingers at him. "I need to get some sleep. See you later, Lance," she smiled, and then she was on her way. Lance stood there in confusion. She had to be lying to him, first of all. Second of all, his shift was over and that meant he had to go talk to Keith when he'd been stewing in anxiety for the past few hours.

 

"You can go ahead and clock out, Lance." The supervisor coming in for their shift smiled at him, and Lance clocked out like a zombie, grabbing his drink awkwardly before leaving the stand.

 

Keith was still sitting at the table Thalia had left him at, staring down at his phone. Lance hesitantly made his way over, free hand shoved into his pocket, feeling tense and more like he was meeting someone for the first time and less like he was seeing an old friend.

 

"Sorry, I'm off now." He shifted around anxiously and Keith glanced up at him. "Want to get food? I'll treat you."

 

Keith hummed and stood to his feet, phone going into his pocket and thumbs hooking over his backpack. "Yeah, food sounds good," he agreed. Lance motioned for Keith to follow him and Keith did so, glancing around at all of the scenery curiously.

 

"So, what did you and Thalia talk about?" Lance couldn't help but ask. There had to be something that he was missing - they couldn't have talked about Bigfoot the whole time, if they even talked about it at all.

 

"Uh…" Keith looked away from where a couple was riding on their tandem bike. "She talked about her job for a while. She asked how I met you, so I told her military school." It was true, more or less, even if Keith had hardly remembered him at that point. "And then we talked about Bigfoot."

 

" _Why?_ " Lance groaned, laughing in disbelief because _only Keith_ would manage to turn a normal conversation into one about weird conspiracy theories. Like Thalia, Keith shrugged.

 

Lance suspected he might go nuts.

 

Breakfast was particularly quiet, mostly because Lance was too busy floundering and Keith was too busy eating. He'd taken him to the pastry shop that Marisol's family owned and had watched Keith stare in interest at the pastry case. He'd stared for so long that Lance had gotten him multiple things to try, savory and sweet, and then they'd sat outside on the curb as Keith stuffed his face as if he'd never eaten anything before. Lance was both disgusted and endeared at the same time.

 

"Uh, I have work all throughout this week. I work all grave shifts so… I don't know what you want to do while I'm at work or while I sleep." Lance was realizing that none of this was really well thought out. His mom was probably willing to entertain Keith regardless of what time of day it was, but that meant Lance wasn't going to be a particularly great host.

 

Keith apparently hadn't really thought about it either - then again Keith didn't think about anything before he did it. He was almost all impulse. His eyebrows were pulled together in thought. "It's fine. I'll find some way to make myself useful. I don't want to disrupt your routine or anything." Keith, apparently, had a habit of talking with his mouth full. Again, Lance was both disgusted and endeared.

 

"Alright… we'll do something cool this weekend, for sure," he promised. Keith shrugged his shoulders and smiled at him.

 

"Don't change your routine for me. I'm fine with whatever."

 

"Keith…" Lance trailed off, snorting quietly. "You would literally never see me because I do nothing but sit in my room and sleep." Keith picked another pastry from the bag, studying it curiously before shoving it in his mouth and replying.

 

"Doesn't sound like you."

 

And well, Keith wasn't wrong. But Lance hadn't had the motivation to do much else in a while.

 

"Yeah… I know."

 

They both knew why, so when Keith didn't comment Lance was sort of glad. He didn't feel like talking about it at the moment.

 

"Is Thalia the girl you told about Voltron?" Keith broke the silence that had come over them. Lance sighed, rubbing at his temples.

 

"Yeah. Why?" Thalia was just another thing he didn't want to talk about.

 

"Just curious. I could see why you liked her."

 

Lance narrowed his eyes at Keith suspiciously. "Do _you_ like her?" It wasn't the first time jealousy had come over his tone while talking to Keith…

 

"Lance, I'm gay." But it was the first time he'd realized he wasn't jealous of Keith, he was jealous _over_ him. Heat washed over his face, and Keith raising an eyebrow at him and smirking in amusement wasn't helping at all. "Did you… not know that?"

 

Lance was floored. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed the way Keith looked at guys (even _himself_ sometimes, but it was a topic he didn't think about for long) but he didn't realize that Keith _only_ liked guys. Keith might have been a hot-head but he was a tender one; Lance thought he'd been into Allura for the longest time and yet here Lance was, all too late, realizing there wasn't anything there.

 

" _No._ I mean I figured you were into guys I just…" Lance was just suddenly _realizing_ a lot of things and he felt like he was in the wrong place to be realizing any of them. "Just finish your food. And stop talking with your mouth full."

 

Keith took another bite. "No." And then he laughed, with his mouth full.

 

Lance hated him.

 

By the time they got back to Lance's the entire house was awake and bustling. His dad was out front, fiddling with the engine of the car and he greeted Lance and Keith with a grunt, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. As Lance walked up the porch, deciding they should probably bother him later, Keith stayed behind and started making conversation, as if he ever _did that_. He couldn't even hear what they were saying because they were slouched over the car with Lance's dad waving his wrench in his hand in annoyance. Keith scratched at his mullet, and Lance leaned against the doorway as he watched Keith rummage through his dad's toolbox before pulling something out and going back under the hood. There was tinkering, more conversing, and then Keith was motioning for his dad to climb in and start the car - and it sounded brand new.

 

His dad seemed elated, hollering and climbing out of the car to shake Keith's hand. Now that they weren't under the hood of the car Lance could hear them.

 

"I'm Lance's dad, Alejandro." Lance knew how firm his dad's handshakes were, but Keith didn't flinch in the slightest.

 

"Keith. Nice to meet you." And, yep, they were conversing in Spanish. Lance was glad Thalia hadn't said anything more embarrassing than she had.

 

"Keith…" All of a sudden his dad was turning his attention to Lance. "From the Garrison?" Lance nodded, and then his dad was going back to shaking Keith's hand more vigorously.

 

"Oh! We didn't know you were coming so soon. The place is a mess," their house was always spotless but if _one thing_ wasn't recently dusted his parents hated it, "I'm sorry we weren't prepared for you to be here."

 

"It was kind of on short notice, I'm sorry to catch you off guard." Keith was blushing, because knowing him he'd just hop on a plane without thinking about it. Alejandro jogged his way inside, yelling to Lance's mom as he cuffed Lance over the head.

 

"Olivia! Keith is here!"

 

Lance was acutely embarrassed. They were so flustered it was like they were meeting someone Lance was romantically involved with. Keith wiped his greasy hands off on the towel sitting on the toolbox and then made his way up the porch steps.

 

"I feel bad for coming now," he muttered.

 

Lance shook his head, winding an arm around Keith's shoulders. "Don't be. My mom misses having all of her kids in the house." He guided Keith inside, wandering into the kitchen where he could hear his parents conversing. Daniel and Rosalina were eating cereal, and while Rosalia was quick to get out of her chair Daniel stayed put.

 

She immediately demanded Lance's attention, and he picked her up and set her on his hip. "Hi, Keith." She held out her tiny hand to him, and Keith's nervous energy seemed to dissipate immediately as he shook her hand gingerly, as if he was afraid of breaking her.

 

"Keith, this is Rosalina. She's the baby of the family." Lance introduced as she wound her arms around his neck. "That's Daniel. He's grumpy, like you, so you guys will probably get along." Daniel just nodded, and Keith nodded back to him. "You met my dad. This is my mom, Olivia."

 

His mom looked up from her conversation with his dad then, and she rushed over to Keith in a whirlwind of oven mitts flying and spatulas clanging to cup his face in her hands.

 

"Keith, it's so nice to meet you. Thank you for coming." It was like Keith was some huge celebrity that had come to their house out of charity.

 

Lance wanted to roll his eyes. His irritation must've been potent, because Rosalina was toying with the hair at the back of his neck - which she always did when he was in a bad mood.

 

"Are you hungry? I started breakfast kind of late but it should be done soon." She was still fussing, back to cooking as Lance set Rosalina down so she could finish her cereal.

 

"We already ate, mama. We haven't slept so we're gonna get some rest. Is it fine if he stays in Val's room?" Lance reached into the refrigerator, grabbing two water bottles and passing one to Keith, who took it without a word.

 

"You have to ask Val." His dad spoke up. Lance rolled his eyes.

 

"Fine, fine. Come on, Keith." He motioned for Keith to follow him and Keith did so, but not before turning back;

 

"Nice to meet you!"

 

Lance grabbed his arm and dragged him faster up the steps.

 

When they got to Lance's room, Lance closed the door behind them, sighing and tugging his phone out of his pocket to text Valeria as Keith glanced around Lance's room.

 

Valeria never checked her phone while she was working, and she worked _a lot_ so Lance didn't expect her to reply any time soon. He sighed, plopping onto his bed as Keith studied his room. The blinds were closed so it was dark, and Lance tugged the cube from his pocket and switched it on, watching the stars light up the room in luminescent blue. Keith was quiet, stepping through the holostars to get to Lance's desk and take a seat in the desk chair, looking down at the dimly lit vintage book titles and photos.

 

If Lance were feeling one hundred percent he might've initiated some kind of conversation, but he hardly had the capacity to talk. He was exhausted, emotionally and mentally, after working all night and then this whole thing with Keith showing up out of the blue. Keith seemed content to sit in silence, though, twisting back and forth in the chair as he picked up one of the books and carefully flipped open the worn pages. The holomap twinkled as one of the stars imploded and then disappeared, stardust twinkling across the room in a spray of blue light before dissipating.

 

Keith flipped a page.

 

"What are you reading?" Lance finally broke the silence, and Keith hummed, looking up from the pages before turning the book back over to read the cover.

 

" _The Alchemist_ , by Paulo Coelho," Keith read, flipping the book open again to continue. Lance hesitated for a moment, shifting uncomfortably as he thought.

 

"Can you read out loud?"

 

The silence bled through the room, stiff for a moment before Keith nodded and flipped the page back over.

 

"Wait-." Lance flipped the holomap off and turned the bedside table lamp on, sitting up and scooting over in bed and patting the empty space next to him. Keith sighed and got to his feet, walking over to the bed and making himself comfortable next to Lance. The space was a little tight but Lance squished himself into the corner, hugging his pillow to his chest as Keith crossed his ankles and cleared his throat.

 

_"Prologue… The alchemist picked up a book that someone in the caravan had brought. Leafing through the pages, he found a story about Narcissus. The alchemist knew the legend of Narcissus, a youth who knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty. He was so fascinated by himself that, one morning, he fell into the lake and drowned. At the spot where he fell, a flower was born, which was called the narcissus. But this was not how the author of the book ended the story. He said that when Narcissus died, the goddesses of the forest appeared and found the lake, which had been fresh water, transformed into a lake of salty tears._

 

_"Why do you weep?" the goddesses asked._

 

_"I weep for Narcissus," the lake replied._

 

_"Ah, it is no surprise that you weep for Narcissus," they said, "for though we pursued him in the forest, you alone could contemplate his beauty close at hand."_

 

_"But… was Narcissus beautiful?" the lake asked._

 

_"Who better than you to know that?" the goddesses said in wonder. "After all, it was by your banks that he knelt each day to contemplate himself!"_

 

_The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said: "I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected."_

 

_"What a lovely story," the alchemist thought."_

 

Keith paused, glanced sideways at Lance, and then turned the page.

 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Lance sputtered before Keith could continue, and Keith flushed, eyebrows drawing together as he shook his head.

 

"I'm not looking at you like anything," he denied. Lance glared at him for all of five long, agonizing seconds before Keith looked back to the book and shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, covering his face with the book. "I just thought of you when I first read it, that's all."

 

It was Lance's turn to flush. "W-why?! You can't just say that and then-"

 

_"Part One-"_

 

"Keith!"

 

"Do you want me to read it or not?" Keith snapped. Lance glared at him, but then settled back down in his corner and hugged the pillow closer to him.

 

"I'll be quiet from now on. Promise." He muttered into the pillow, and Keith tutted.

 

"Sure you will." He rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips.

 

"I resent that." But Keith's pointed look was enough to make him pout and resolve to keep his mouth shut, settling down as Keith went back to reading.

 

It didn't take Lance long to fall asleep to the sound of Keith's voice.


	5. love is everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know you have some weird moral complex but I’m fine and you don’t have to baby me like I’m some kid that doesn’t know which way to put on his pants, alright? I was fine without you before and I’ll be fine after.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! enjoy! c:

Something about having Keith around was a welcome relief, even if his presence did dredge up memories and even if they bickered more often than not. Lance realized that he’d just gotten used to having Keith around, always standing at his side with his arms crossed. They hardly even talked much, with Keith not knowing what subjects to breach with Lance and Lance not entirely knowing how to start a normal conversation with Keith. Rosalina seemed to do it just fine; every time Lance came back from work she was always talking Keith’s ear off, rattling off things that had happened to her at school with her friends. Keith was good at feigning interest, or maybe he really was interested, nodding his head and responding as he made breakfast in the kitchen. 

 

But sometimes having Keith there did nothing to help, and Lance would sit in his room for hours, not even sleeping as he tried to drag himself out of an episode, curled up under the blankets. Not to say Keith didn’t try to help, because he did; he’d knock and ask if Lance was okay, ask if he needed anything - water, company, just to be left alone - and then oblige whatever Lance felt like he needed. 

 

Lance felt indebted to him, even if Keith was the one staying here without paying a lick of change. If nothing else, Keith was distracting his family from the fact that Lance was hiding away  _ more  _ than before, as he wallowed and came to terms with the fact that this was his life now; going to work, coming home and going to bed, probably crying at some point in between, eating, and then repeating. It felt stupid and monotonous, and sometimes Lance wanted to just leave all of it for good.

 

The weekend rolled around once again, marking the end of another work week. Lance hauled himself out of bed and glanced outside - the sun was beginning to set, and he sighed as he scratched his head and emerged from his room. As he looked over the railing into the living room, he could see Keith, Daniel, and Rosalina playing cards over bowls of ice cream. The deck in Keith’s hands was huge, compared to Rosalina and Daniel, and Lance realized they were playing Uno as he made his way down the steps. 

 

“I can’t believe you guys roped him into Uno.” Rosalina and Daniel didn’t  _ play  _ Uno, they strategized, and it was working.

 

“I’m losing but I’m having fun.” Keith said around a spoonful of ice cream. Lance didn’t understand Keith’s lack of competitiveness. Then again, he’d really only seemed competitive when Lance egged him on, so maybe Lance just needed to get involved to bring it out. 

 

“Lance isn't fun to play with.” Rosalina raised her little eyebrows at him, and Lance gaped. 

 

“Wow, Lina. That's rude.” 

 

“It's true. You get too serious.” Daniel chimed in, slapping down a reverse so that Keith didn't get a turn. 

 

“Sounds like Lance.” Keith agreed. Lance grumbled, walking into the kitchen and rummaging through the refrigerator. He settled on ice cream, grabbing a bowl and scooping some in before going back to the living room. 

 

“Alright, scoot over, Keith. It’s time to play a  _ real game. _ ” Lance knocked the cards out of Keith’s hand and Keith shoved him over with a grunt of annoyance. Even still, Lance plopped himself down right next to him.

 

“Lance! Couldn’t you wait? I’m at Uno!” Rosalina threw her card at him - a wild card. Lance shook his head and collected up all the cards that were now on the floor. 

 

“Nope. We’re starting over.” Lance took Daniel’s cards and began to shuffle, tongue out in concentration. 

 

“He’s always like this,” Rosalina faux-whispered to Keith. Lance blatantly ignored her. 

 

“Yeah, I know. Trust me,” Keith whispered back. 

 

The game of Uno went on well into the night, Rosalina was half asleep as she played, becoming more and more uninterested in keeping the game going as she fell asleep against Daniel’s shoulder. She yawned, and then Daniel yawned, and then Keith. Lance seemed well and awake, but even  _ he  _ yawned. 

 

“Okay… I think it’s bed time.” Lance set his cards down. “But I have the least amount of cards so I win!” The other three in the circle grunted in agreement, just glad that the game was over. Daniel began to put the cards away, and Keith picked up the empty bowls of ice cream. Lance picked up Rosalina and carried her to bed, and then went back to the kitchen to watch Keith wash the dishes, sitting at the island and humming to himself. 

 

“You seem to be doing better today,” Keith observed. Lance pursed his lips in thought, and decided not to think about it for too long, because it was only a matter of time before the storm clouds came back in full force.

 

“I mean… maybe?” He glanced at the clock, scratching at his head. Keith hummed, putting the bowls in the dishwasher and running it. 

 

“You didn’t have dinner, did you? Are you hungry?” He dried his hands on a towel, and Lance tried to keep himself from staring at him too much as he began to rummage through the refrigerator. “Olivia saved you a plate.” On cue, he pulled a plate from the depths of the fridge, setting it on the counter as he put things back in their place. 

 

“I can’t believe you’re on a first-name basis with my parents.” Lance sighed, but he wasn’t even mad about it. His parents were friendly people - there’s a reason Lance had grown up as a people person, even if he  _ was  _ an overbearing one sometimes. “I’m not too hungry, actually…” Regardless, Keith was putting the plate in the microwave. 

 

“You haven’t eaten anything but ice cream all day. Even if you don’t feel hungry you should eat.” 

 

“Ugh. Fine, dad.”

 

“ _ Don’t. _ ” 

 

Lance laughed, and Keith turned to look at him over his shoulder. “Speaking of, your dad said he could probably get me a job at the garage.” 

 

“Oh yeah?” Lance swung his legs precariously, leaning on his elbows. 

 

“Yeah. I have an interview on Monday.” Keith gave him a thin smile. Lance nodded his head. 

 

“That’s good! Now you’ll have something to do while I’m not around.” Somehow, the thought scared him a little. What if Keith was gone  _ too much _ ? What if his family started to notice that he was isolating himself even more? What if, what if, what if? 

 

“What’s that face for?” 

 

Lance realized he was grimacing all too late, and he fixed the expression on his face to become more neutral, and shook his head. “Nothing. Just thinking.” 

 

“... I don’t have to take that many hours.” Keith turned back to the microwave as it went off, pulling the plate out and sliding it over to Lance along with a fork. Lance sighed, grabbing the fork and toying with the food. He didn’t know why this conversation was rubbing him the wrong way.

 

“Keith, you don’t have to like, do anything for me, you know?” He felt dumb even saying it, and he felt even more dumb when Keith gave him silence in return. “I know you’re going to leave at some point you don’t have to act like you’re not.” 

 

Keith’s eyebrows pulled together. “That’s not what I meant-” 

 

“I know you have some weird moral complex but I’m fine and you don’t have to baby me like I’m some kid that doesn’t know which way to put on his pants, alright? I was fine without you before and I’ll be fine after.” 

 

He regretted it the minute it came out of his mouth. Lance was infamous for saying remarkably stupid things sometimes, but he  _ did  _ usually have better tact, and now he’d just made Keith put on that dumb blank look he always wore every time he started to shut everything out. Keith took a deep breath, scratching at his head in a way Lance was sure was supposed to be casual, but he knew he’d hurt Keith’s feelings. He knew what it looked like. 

 

“Ugh. Okay, that came out wrong.” Lance wasn’t even entirely sure what he’d been trying to say, but if it was going to make Keith make that face, then he definitely didn’t want to mean it.

 

“No… it’s fine.” Keith was tense, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” Lance wanted to say that he  _ didn’t  _ feel that way, but then why did he say it? He was angry and confused at himself for snapping, but it wasn’t the first time he’d done so. “Uh. I’m gonna head to bed, though. G’night.” He removed himself from the counter and left, leaving Lance alone without giving him a chance to reply or say anything more. 

 

Lance set his fork down and groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. He rewrapped his plate, having lost his appetite, and put it back in the fridge, setting his fork in the sink before his phone started to ring in his pocket. He pulled it out, expecting to see a phone call from one of his parents, but instead it was Hunk. Lance felt a small spark of happiness ignite in his chest, but only a small one. His mood was pretty shot. 

 

“Hey, Hunk.” Lance answered, because it had been a while since he’d talked to Hunk, and maybe having a new person to talk to would help lift his spirits. 

 

“Lance! How’ve you been, buddy? It’s been awhile.” Hunk sounded cheerful - he could hear Pidge in the background, but it was no surprise that they were together. They had a lot of the same classes, after all. 

 

“Uhm. I’ve been fine. How about you and Pidge?” Lance opened the back door and stood on the porch, lying down in the lawn chair. 

 

“Great! We’re working on a project right now but we were just thinking about you. Heard Keith went to see you.” 

 

Hunk wasn't wasting any time. Lance groaned, looking up to see if Keith’s window was closed. It was. “Yeah. He's here. He just went to bed.” Lance muttered, and Hunk hummed. He could almost hear Hunk and Pidge talking, but Hunk must have put the receiver to his shoulder. 

 

“... Okay, so Keith texted me. I don't know what happened but he seemed pretty bummed out so I got kind of worried and I'm sorry for being nosy but I just care about you guys and-” 

 

“Hunk, everything is fine.” Lance pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. Hunk hummed, obviously not believing him. “I just… I kind of snapped, but I need to calm down before I apologize.” 

 

The entire line was quiet; Lance could hear the shuffling of papers, probably from Pidge. It remained that way for a while, but Lance didn't have it in himself to break it. “Alright.” Hunk finally gave in, and Lance let out a breath he hadn't realized he’d been holding in. “Anyways. I’ll catch up with you later. We need to finish this project, but call me if you need me. I know we’re busy a lot, but we’ll always make time for you.” 

 

Lance chewed at his lip. “Okay… thanks, Hunk. You too, Pidge.” 

 

“Of course.” Pidge sounded preoccupied, but she still replied. 

 

“I’ll let you get back to work.” Lance stood up from the lawn chair, glancing out over the yard. 

 

“Alright. Goodnight, Lance!” Hunk and Pidge chimed together, and Lance hummed before hanging up.

 

Lance didn't get a chance to apologize to Keith over the next two days, but it was grating on him, and next thing he knew he was back to work, mood foul and guilt eating away at him.  He stared down at his phone, watching a movie with his coffee in his hands as he basically just watched the stand. That's usually how weekdays went; incredibly slow. His boss had told him things always picked up in the summer, when people started to vacation, and Lance wondered if he would prefer that over getting paid to basically just sit there. 

 

Maybe he would. 

 

Having time alone meant having time to think, and Lance had been thinking  _ a lot _ . About Keith mostly. He wanted to find it annoying but didn’t - instead he was coming to the realization that everything he’d said when he’d snapped at Keith had been false. But it’d be selfish of Lance to tell Keith the only thing he was looking forward to was seeing him. That he hadn't thought of the moment Keith was going to leave because he  _ knew  _ it was going to hurt. It wasn’t even entirely about having someone that understood him here, it was just about having  _ Keith  _ here, and Lance wasn’t sure how to process that his feelings had gone from competitive rivalry to  _ I think I have really strong non-platonic feelings for Keith.  _ Before, he could blame his crush on Keith on depravity. He could blame it on just being fearful of losing one of his best friends, or the fact that Hunk liked to pick on him for always getting up in Keith’s grill and planting a stupid seed in his head. 

 

But now he had no excuse, and Lance was afraid of what would happen once his feelings started to become obvious. Lance wasn’t known for his subtlety when it came to his emotions; he’d always worn them on his sleeve, but the thought of confronting Keith about it terrified him. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship, and he didn’t want Keith to leave over it either. 

 

“You look like you’ve got a stick shoved up your ass.” 

 

Lance glanced up to see Thalia leaning against the window, long curly hair pulled up into a huge fluffy bun on her head.

 

“Why do you always do that?” He sighed, pushing himself off the counter and grabbing a cup so that he could start making her drink. She pouted at him. 

 

“Seriously, though. What’s up?” It was an innocent enough question, but he couldn’t very well confide in her about the entirety of what was going on. He chewed at his lip in thought, pumping syrup into the cup before setting it under the espresso machine. 

 

“Things with Keith are just… weird right now.” That was true enough, even if Lance wasn’t telling her the whole story. 

 

“He told me you guys know each other from military school?” Thalia tapped her manicured nails on the counter, head tilted in interest. 

 

“Yeah… uhm… we were in the same class.” Lance’s eyebrows pulled together as he remembered staring at the back of Keith’s head almost every day, until they’d been split into fighter and cargo class respectively. “At least for a while.” 

 

“And you guys have been friends since then? That’s pretty cool.” Thalia smiled, scanning her watch as he finished her coffee. 

 

“Uh, well. We weren’t even friends back then, really. It’s just how we met.” Keith had hardly even remembered him when they’d found Shiro… but Keith  _ had  _ remembered him, so that was a win. 

 

“How are things weird, then?” She was definitely prying. Lance wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to even talk about his feeling for Keith with her. That would be a slap in the face, wouldn’t it? Even if, technically, she’d been the one to throw him out? He just thinks it’s in bad taste. “Do you like him?” 

 

Lance could feel his face flare with heat, and he sputtered helplessly, trying to conjure up words as Thalia giggled at him behind her hand. 

 

“I’ll take that as a yeah.” She grabbed her coffee from the counter and took a sip. “You should do something nice for him, I bet he’d like that.” 

 

Apologizing was nice… right? 

 

“See you tomorrow.” Thalia waved over her shoulder as she left. 

 

Keith had gotten the job at the garage, so Lance didn’t get to see him all week except for during dinner, and he didn’t want to apologize in front of his entire family, because then they would  _ probably  _ hate him, on top of being mildly afraid of him, and Lance wanted to avoid that for as long as possible. Talking to Daniel was difficult enough. 

 

Lance stewed in guilt the entire week, trying to fill up his free time with something other than sitting in bed and moping around, but that was all he had the energy to do, until finally the weekend rolled around once more.

 

He’d debated on doing something nice for Keith, but he couldn’t think of anything. Taking him somewhere touristy didn’t seem personal enough, but otherwise Lance was at a loss, until Daniel had taken his surfboard from the shed and had left with Rosalina to meet their cousins on the beach. It left him and Keith alone, and Lance gathered up courage in his chest as he wandered up the steps and knocked on the door to Valeria’s room. Keith gave him permission to come in, and Lance did so, shutting the door behind him even though they were home alone. 

 

“Hey,” he breathed. Keith gave him a thin smile. 

 

“Hey.” 

 

They were both trying too hard at casual. Keith hadn’t checked up on him all week and Lance had felt particularly awful and lonely, especially knowing he’d pushed Keith away himself. “I fucked up,” Lance blurted out, and Keith’s eyebrows went up to hide behind his fringe in surprise. “I didn’t mean what I said. I just… Well, okay I kind of did. But I didn’t mean it like how it came out.” He wasn’t making it any better. 

 

“Okay. So how did you mean it?” Keith closed the book he’d been reading, and Lance swallowed nervously. 

 

“I just-... You being here makes me feel guilty. Because I know you have other places you want to go and probably other places you want to be but you’re here helping me. And helping my family, too. You’ve done more for them in two weeks than I’ve done since I got back and I just… I feel bad. I didn’t mean that you treated me like a baby because you  _ don’t.  _ I meant that, like, you don’t have to stay any longer or anything than you normally would and I don’t want to get in the way of you doing what you want to do.” He took a deep breath, sitting at the desk and rubbing his eyes. “I don’t  _ know  _ if I’ll be fine when you leave but I have to be, right? I can’t just… I can’t be this way forever.” 

 

Keith apparently didn’t know what to say, because he was sitting there looking at Lance with an odd expression on his face. Lance decided to continue. 

 

“This is  _ super dramatic  _ but I’ve realized that… this is my life. Getting up and talking to the same people and doing the same things and thinking the same things and going the same places. And people live like that all the time, but I’m so… I’m so  _ tired _ and bored. I always felt like I was meant for something greater and I was but only for so long, you know? Now it’s just… over.” 

 

Again, it was quiet. Keith was chewing at his lip, seeming to deliberate. 

 

“... Why don’t you come with me?” He asked after a long, agonizing moment of silence. Lance stared at him with wide eyes. “I know it isn’t some adventure out in space, but… it’s been helping me. Maybe it’ll help you, too.” Keith was avoiding looking at him, gaze sideways as Lance thought about it. How long were they going to travel for? What would happen when they stopped? What if they  _ didn’t  _ stop? 

 

“... Okay,” Lance agreed finally, and Keith looked at him then. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.” 

 

If he’d agreed for nothing else, the smile on Keith’s face was worth it. “Really?” 

 

“Yeah,” Lance laughed, feeling his heartbeat flutter in his chest. Keith shifted on the bed, and the only time Lance had seen him happier was when they’d finally defeated the Galra Empire. It made a whirlwind of emotions start churning in his stomach. 

 

“Alright. We’ll figure that out when the time comes, then.” Keith flipped his book back open, but didn’t go back to reading, just toyed with one of the pages as Lance sat there and watched him. 

 

“Uhm…” Lance’s mouth felt dry with nervousness as Keith looked up at him again. “I want to show you something later. Is that cool?” Keith blinked at him with wide eyes before nodding. 

 

“Yeah, sure. Just tell me when.” 

 

Lance stood from the chair, walking out of the room before panicking. 

 

Now he had to figure out  _ what  _ he was going to show Keith. 

 

But it didn’t take him long to figure it out.

 

* * *

 

The dim light of the castle kitchen was only enough for Lance to tell where Hunk’s homemade Oreo cookies and his glass of milk were. He’d been saving them for a time where he just felt like he couldn’t deal, and this was definitely one of those times. The memory of Lotor’s death itched the back of his skull, and Lance couldn’t fall asleep without it replaying over and over in his mind’s eye, waking him up and rattling him. He’d decided to just not sleep, until he could stop thinking about it. It was probably going to take a while, but if he were exhausted enough then he wouldn’t have to worry; he’d be out like a light no problem. 

 

The Oreos were good comfort food, even if the bright pink color did resemble the scones Lotor used to serve with tea. But at least those weren’t bad memories. Lance clung onto them, feeling conflicted, and like he was a traitor for more than one reason. How could he possibly feel awful about one of the very same people who’d been dooming entire planets deaths? 

 

Lance took a deep breath and scrubbed his hands through his hair. 

 

“Lance?” Keith didn’t turn the light on as he came in, just wandered over to where Lance was sitting down and hopping up to sit on the counter. “You okay?” 

 

Lance definitely wasn’t okay, and he didn’t have the energy to act like he was fine. “No. And I can’t sleep.” He reached for an Oreo and dunked it in his glass of milk, biting into it and not feeling nearly as satisfied as he should’ve. 

 

“Wanna talk about it?” Keith offered. Lance shook his head, scooting the tray of cookies towards the red paladin. Keith picked one up and ate it without dunking it in milk. “One time, Shiro took me kayaking,” he began, and Lance let him continue because it was better than sitting in silence. “And we made it all the way out into the middle of the lake when Shiro pulled out his phone to take a picture. He was trying to get me to climb into his kayak but I couldn’t swim.” 

 

“Did you have floaties?” Lance grabbed another Oreo. 

 

“Nope. And Shiro didn’t know I didn’t know how to swim back then.” Keith raised his eyebrows, and Lance snorted around his cookie. “So I fell over and almost drowned, and Shiro had to save me and he was  _ so pissed  _ that I hadn’t told him that I couldn’t swim.” He wasn’t laughing, but there was definitely amusement in his tone. Lance remembered how Shiro had looked going off on Slav, and thought of him giving Keith the same treatment. It was enough to make him start snickering uncontrollably. 

 

“Why didn’t you tell him?” He laughed, humming when one of Keith’s hands wound into his hair. It felt too nice to question him. 

 

“Didn’t think to. I figured we were going to be in the kayaks the whole time.” Keith shrugged, nails scratching Lance’s scalp. Lance shook his head, resting his head on his arms and looking up at Keith. 

 

“No wonder his fringe is gray. Poor Shiro,” he sighed. 

 

“Poor Shiro? Poor me! I almost drowned!” Keith tugged his hair, but not hard enough to hurt, and it sent Lance into another giggle fit, trying to stifle it into his forearms. 

 

“You should’ve asked for floaties.” Conjuring up the image of Keith wearing floaties was doing nothing to quell his laughter.

 

“I was fifteen. I refused to ask for floaties.” Keith grimaced. Lance snickered, grabbing another Oreo and dipping it in his milk. 

 

“You would’ve saved Shiro a heart attack.” 

 

“He’s fine,” Keith shrugged. Lance sighed and shook his head, finishing off the Oreo and relaxing into his arms as Keith continued to run his fingers through Lance’s hair. It was lulling him to sleep, even as he was draped over the counter uncomfortably. “I’m not carrying you to bed if you fall asleep.” 

 

Lance fell asleep anyways, and Keith carried him to bed regardless.

 

* * *

 

“We’re not really going surfing, are we?” Keith’s eyebrows pulled together, and Lance rolled his eyes as he handed Keith the paddle so he could lift his paddleboard over his head.

 

“This isn’t even a surfboard, Keith.” Not everyone knew there was a difference, he couldn’t exactly blame Keith, but  _ still.  _ It was eleven p.m. at night; Lance had no intention of trying to teach Keith how to surf. “You  _ do  _ know how to swim now, right?” He teased. Keith sighed and nodded his head. 

 

“Yes,” he replied dryly. Lance smiled, motioning for Keith to follow him through the back gate and to the driveway, where his parents Jeep was waiting. He loaded the board up and tied it down, grabbing the paddle from Keith and rigging it up also before climbing into the driver's side of the Jeep. 

 

“Come on, Keith. We’ve got a bit of a drive.” Keith pursed his lips before climbing into the passenger's side, buckling up his seatbelt as Lance pressed the button for the ignition and pulled out of the driveway. 

 

The only place Lance knew he could go this late without getting in trouble was his dad’s hotel, but it was far enough that his father always drove there. Lance figured he’d save both him and Keith the trouble of a long hike back by driving, even if driving only took fifteen minutes. Once parked, he told Keith to stay put so that he could talk to one of the people working the front desk. Lance had known most of these people since he was a kid, so when he walked in they weren’t surprised that he wanted to go out on the water, and granted him access and told him a lifeguard was on duty so he’d be safe. Lance thanked the man and then went back outside, climbing up to untie the paddleboard from the roof. 

 

“Okay, we’re good.” Lance smiled, handing Keith the paddle as he balanced the board on his head. He lead Keith down to the beach, but said nothing, feeling acutely nervous as he walked out into the surf and set the board down. Keith was still standing at the edge of the water, and Lance motioned for him to join him. Keith hesitantly stepped into the water. “Come sit on your knees here. I’ve got the board, don’t worry.” Keith climbed onto the board, sitting back on his heels and looking back when Lance wrapped the wrap around his ankle. Then, Lance was climbing onto the board as well, motioning for Keith to hand him the paddle, and then they were off. 

 

Lance paddled them out until the waves rolling onto the shore no longer rocked the board. Keith stayed sitting there, and Lance carefully sat down on the board as well, staring up at the sky. 

 

“When I first came back, I would come out here all the time.” Lance moved until his feet were hanging in the water. “It reminds me of space, floating out here with inky black everywhere, and all the stars.” Keith chewed at his lip, shifting carefully until he was next to Lance, legs criss-crossed. “You'd think being out here would freak me out, because of that. But… I like it.” 

 

Keith stared up at the moon, leaning back on his hands. “It's nice. Quiet.” 

 

Lance hummed in agreement, glancing sideways at Keith, at the way the moonlight was shining in his eyes… and then made himself glance away, because that was almost  _ too  _ much. 

 

“It kind of reminds me of Jaws.” Keith broke the silence again. Lance narrowed his eyes at him in annoyance, attempting to shove him into the water. The paddle board rocked and Keith laughed as he clung desperately to Lance’s arm to keep himself from falling off. 

 

“You're the  _ worst.  _ Why would you bring that up while we’re out here?” Lance groaned, helping Keith get settled back on the board. 

 

“Sorry. I've been thinking it this whole time. It is nice, though.” Keith smiled at him, and Lance felt his heart leap into his throat as Keith’s eyes glanced down at his lips. 

 

“You're saying it would still be nice if a shark came up and ate one of us?” He was trying to make a joke out of it, but it came out too quiet, carried out to sea with the breeze as Keith leaned into him, their lips brushing for only a moment before Keith was kissing him. 

 

Lance was kissing back, Keith’s fingers trailing goosebumps over his bare arm as Lance’s fingers wound into Keith’s hair. Is he actually kind of into Keith’s mullet? As he pulled Keith in closer he thought he might be - a shiver going straight down his spine as Keith’s tongue nudged at his lips. 

 

Then, all of a sudden, Keith was pushing him and he was falling off the board into the water, his vision all  _ KeithKeithKeith  _ and then nothing but black as the water enveloped him. 

 

He sputtered as he emerged, the sound of Keith’s laughter making its way to his ears as he wiped the salt water from his eyes and turned to glare at where Keith was still perched on the board, wheezing in amusement. He swam over and promptly tipped the board over, sending Keith into the water as well, his laughter coming to a pause as he was submerged only to pick back up as he came back above. Lance hauled his upper body onto the board, glaring at Keith as he snickered like he’d just made the best joke in the entire world. 

 

“I’m letting you know right now that I’m severely offended.” He definitely wasn’t, but he did wish the kiss had gone on longer. 

 

“Offended? About what?” Keith hauled himself onto the board too, and Lance could feel himself flush as Keith closed in on his space. 

 

“Talking about Jaws and then  _ shoving me off the board, _ ” he pouted. Keith smiled, pecking Lance on the lips. 

 

“Better?” 

 

Lance felt acutely embarrassed, caught off guard by the fact that Keith had kissed him in the first place, and shocked by the fact that Keith didn’t even seem flustered by anything that was going on. “Maybe…” He relented anyways, because Keith smiling at him like that was worth it. 

 

Lance thought he might do anything to see Keith smile. 

 

Keith jumped up onto the board, offering a hand to Lance. “Come on, we probably should go, though. Before we really do get eaten.” Lance rolled his eyes but accepted the hand that Keith offered. It took them a bit to get Lance on the board, but then he was standing to his feet and they were paddling back to shore.

 

Once back on land Lance tied up the board to the Jeep, throwing the paddle inside before grabbing the pair of towels from the backseat and handing one off to Keith. Keith accepted it, wrapping it around himself and leaning back against the car, staring up at the sky. Lance wrapped his own towel around his shoulders, climbing into the driver's seat and sitting down as he watched Keith’s eyes take in the stars. His skin itched for some kind of contact, and his fingers wiggled as he mentally prepared himself for… what? Reaching for Keith’s hand? Running his fingers through his dumb mullet? 

 

Lance was just reaching over when Keith peeled himself from the car, turning to look at Lance with an expression on his face that Lance couldn’t read. 

 

“Should we get going?” 

 

Lance placed both of his hands in his lap and nodded, waiting until Keith had began walking around the other side to sigh, brushing the sand off his feet with his toes before swinging his legs into the car. 

 

The drive was quiet save for the smooth voice on the late-night radio show, speaking in slow, watery Spanish. Every few minutes Lance would take his hand from the steering wheel in an attempt to swallow his nerves and take Keith’s hand, but then he’d place it back again, glancing sideways as Keith looked out the window at the shoreline of the beach. His head was still so preoccupied when they pulled up in the driveway that Lance left the board on top of the car, sliding out of the driver's seat and leading the way up the porch. 

 

All of the lights in the house were off, so when the door creaked open Lance winced, stepping inside quietly with Keith following after him before shutting and locking it. They both made their way upstairs - only one loose floorboard squeaked under them - and once there they both paused, not even looking at each other directly. 

 

Lance wanted to say something to break the silence,  _ anything _ to tell Keith that what happened should be a permanent arrangement. Really, they should just have a straightforward talk so that Lance knows exactly where they stand now. 

 

“Tonight was nice,” Keith whispered, so quiet that Lance almost couldn’t hear it.

 

“I’m glad you liked it…” Lance tried to gather more words in his throat, and Keith looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. “If you want to shower you can go first.” 

 

_ Wrong! No! Tell him how you feel!  _

 

“Uh… okay.” Keith gave him a gentle smile, and then he was slipping into Valeria’s room and shutting the door. Lance let out a heavy sigh, stepping into his room and leaning against it to close it. 

 

“Quiznack…” 


	6. backwards and forwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “As I leave this earth and sail into the infinite cosmos of the universe, the wars, the triumphs, the beauty, and the bloodshed, the ocean of human endeavor, it all grows quiet, insignificant. I’m nothing more than recycled stardust and borrowed energy, born from a rock, spinning in the ether. I watch my life backwards and forwards and I feel free. Nothing is real, love is everything, and I know nothing.”   
> \- Kesha Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy the last chapter <3

When Lance woke up the next day, he thought about the night before and was determined to set things between himself and Keith straight. Keith had offered to let Lance travel with him, and he’d  _ kissed  _ Lance; this couldn’t mean nothing. Lance didn’t want it to mean nothing, either, and he knew the longer this went on the harder it would be to bring it back up. He swung his legs out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweats, scratching at his head as he emerged from his room to peek into Valeria’s, but Keith appeared to be up already. Lance travelled down the steps, eyebrows pulled together as he made his way to the kitchen. Keith was there, rummaging through the refrigerator. 

 

“Do Dani and Lina have school today?” Keith began to tug things out of the refrigerator and set them on the island. Lance had the distinct urge to run his fingers through Keith’s bedhead, but resisted the urge, lurking by the island and trying to come up with a good way to bring up the night before.

 

“Yeah...” He muttered through a yawn, rubbing at his eyes as he sat down on the barstool. Keith eyed him for a moment before turning back to the stove to flip the crepe in the pan. 

 

“You can go back to sleep if you want, you know.” Keith started to make two sandwiches, eyebrows drawn together as he watched Lance with a careful expression on his face. Lance shook his head, watching Keith in carefully crafted apathy as he gingerly layered the sandwiches with turkey, avocado, lettuce, “Tomatoes and mustard?” 

 

“Neither.” 

 

Keith put them back into the fridge before topping off the sandwich and going back to the crepe, taking it from the stove before carefully pouring more batter onto the pan. Lance decidedly stared down at his phone, not glancing up when Daniel came into the kitchen with his backpack over his shoulder. 

 

“Good morning, Keith.” Daniel scratched at his hair before flattening it back down, shoulders shrugged up self consciously. 

 

“Morning.” Keith slathered the finished crepe with Nutella and piled the plate high with fried potatoes before sliding it over to where Daniel was leaning against the counter. “What kind of sauce do you like? And Lina?”

 

Daniel blinked down at the plate, giving a quiet thank you as he rolled up the crepe and took a bite. “We both like Ranch,” he stated on a moan of satisfaction, quick to finish the crepe and dig into the potatoes. Keith filled a tupperware with ranch and wrapped the sandwich before placing them both into a cooler lunch box, throwing in a bag of chips and placing it on the counter. “... You made me lunch?” Daniel looked absolutely flabbergasted.

 

“Your brother helped. You should thank him.” Keith jabbed the spatula in Lance’s direction, and Daniel glanced sideways at him with his fork in his mouth. Lance looked up at him. It was the first time they’d made eye contact since their fight. 

 

“Thanks, Lance…” 

 

Lance shrugged - he hadn’t done anything. “Keith made it,” he dismissed, and Daniel hummed, going back to eating. The silence was stagnant and awkward. Lance felt more anxious than usual, with Keith there watching the tension between him and his family, but Keith said nothing, sliding the next plate to Lance with a reassuring smile on his face. Lance pushed his phone aside, crossing his ankles as he began to fidget with his food. 

 

Rosalina came trampling down the steps, French braids swinging against her back as she wandered into the kitchen and climbed onto the stool next to Lance, looking down at his phone and liking a picture of Thalia on his feed before eyeing the crepes. 

 

“Can I have one?” She looked at Keith with unadulterated adoration, smile on her face as he placed a plate in front of her. “Thank you!” She dug in with her hands, scrolling through Lance’s phone and liking things as if it were hers. Lance didn’t mind. Daniel was quick to finish his plate, placing his dishware in the sink before grabbing for the lunchbox. 

 

“Thanks for the food, Keith. See you later.” And then he was rushing for the front door. 

 

“Hey, hey! Wait for Lina, since when do you just take off like that?” Daniel looked to Rosalina, and then to Lance, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

 

“It’s okay. I can walk to school by myself.” Rosalina shrugged. Lance heaved out a deep sigh, placing his fork on his plate and resting his elbows on the counter to root his hands in his hair. 

 

“I’ll walk her. Go.” Lance waved Daniel off, and then he was gone, the tension in the room dissipating with his departure. “What the crow is that about…?” Lance muttered, chewing idly at his food. 

 

“He’s got a girlfriend so he doesn’t like walking with me anymore.” Rosalina stole a potato from Lance’s plate, even though she still had some on hers as well. Lance frowned in displeasure. 

 

“Does he walk with her to school?” When Rosalina nodded Lance sighed. Keith still said nothing, going over to the back door and asking Olivia if she wanted to eat out on the porch;

 

“I’ll bring your plate.” 

 

Olivia agreed, sounding perplexed as Keith wandered back over to grab her plate and step out onto the porch to hand it to her. She took a seat in the lawn chair, muttering something to him with her hand on his cheek. Rosalina poked at Lance’s side, trying to get his attention so that she could show him one of the pictures on his  _ Instagram  _ feed. Keith came back inside and made himself a plate then, shaking his bangs out of his face as he chewed and glanced down at the news article on the tablet sitting on the counter. 

 

“You guys had a blackout a few days ago?” Keith scrolled as Lance nodded. 

 

“Yeah. For a couple hours. Something about the inflating jellyfish population.” It was easy to dismiss, because stuff like it had happened before, but Keith’s eyebrows were still furrowed, looking concerned. “I don’t think this is some weird conspiracy thing, Keith. It’s a  _ blackout. _ ” 

 

Keith shrugged his shoulders, popping a potato into his mouth. “Never know.” Lance rolled his eyes, stopping mid pout as Keith smiled at him. 

 

“What?”

 

Keith shook his head and blushed, and Lance sort of wanted to die. “Nothing,” Keith insisted. 

 

Rosalina pushed her plate towards the sink and climbed off of her stool, taking her remaining crepe in her fist as she walked over to get her backpack and slide it over her shoulder. 

 

“Here, Lina.” Lance slid from his stool as well, grabbing the lunchbox Keith had packed and clipping it to her backpack. 

 

“Thanks.” She smiled at him, and then turned to wave at Keith. “See you later, Keith.” She trudged her way to the front door and Lance lingered back in the kitchen, hovering awkwardly as he tried to think of something to tell Keith. 

 

“Do you have work today?” Lance was usually better at being direct. He wasn’t sure why he was avoiding this so much. Keith nodded his head, scrolling through the newsfeed before looking up at Lance with a fondness in his gaze that made Lance’s heart clench in his chest. 

 

“Yeah. But we can catch up later, okay?” Keith assured him, as if he knew what Lance wanted to talk about. 

 

“Okay…” He trailed off, fidgeting and getting that itch in his skin again, shoving his hands into his pockets to resist the urge to reach out. “See you later.” He turned on his heel and rushed away, slipping his feet into the sandals in front of the door and grabbing his keys so that he could lock the door on the way out.

 

* * *

 

The tubes and wires inside the machine concerned Lance as he stared at it, shuffling nervously on his feet. The doctors next to him had been poking and prodding at him all morning, trying to get a gauge on his physical biology. In the end, they’d just decided to run tests - Lotor had told Lance it was because Galra medicine tended to be more intense, which was why he had a huge scar along the length of his back instead of nothing, but Lance wasn’t entirely sure he believed him. Still, the doctors seemed friendly and curious, so he answered all of their questions, listened to them chatter about his vitals, and let them poke him with needles for blood samples.

 

“You’ve dealt with humans before, haven’t you?” Lance thought of Shiro’s Galra arm, thought of Mr. Holt and Matt. 

 

“Not many. It’d be nice to have a bigger sample.” The female doctor - a half galra with pink markings all over - answered him. Lance didn’t object; his sister had just gotten into medical school last time he’d heard from her, so it wasn’t strange for these scientists to be just as curious as she was about everything.

 

“Sure.” Lance wasn’t about to disagree with them; if they could come up with a way to heal him that  _ wouldn’t  _ make him feel like he was on fire every time he got injured he’d consider it a blessing. 

 

Still, the pod was intimidating, looming over him in size because it was meant for a Galra soldier and not a scrawny human like himself. Yet, when they told him to step in he did so, trying not to appear on edge as one of the doctors stepped inside with him and began to sort the odd tubes inside. 

 

“What do those do?” He asked, and without answering she tilted his head forward so his neck was exposed and attached the tube to him. It felt like claws digging into his back, thin needles hooking into his skin to keep the tube attached and another larger needle in the center. Lance yelped and reached back, but it was held fast to him as he scratched at it. “Ow! What the heck is that?” He complained, but the doctor didn’t pay him much mind, just kept attaching the tubes down the length of his spine, trying to hold still so that she wouldn’t mess up  _ whatever it was  _ that she was doing. 

 

“We’re going to attempt to slowly raise your level of quintessence. It will make you stronger, faster, and more durable in battle.” The other female doctor spoke now. Lance frowned, pursing his lips. 

 

“Are you saying I’m not strong enough to be a soldier?” He narrowed his eyes at her, but her own were alight with laughter. 

 

“Not strong enough to be a Galra soldier, and you  _ are  _ now, correct?” She seemed to be testing him, but he didn’t let the displeasure show on his face. 

 

“Keith keeps kicking my ass. Let’s do this.” 

 

The whole idea had come about when his identity had been exposed during a recognizance mission. Lance had felt Blue the moment the Castle of Lions was in range, feeling her tugging and prodding at him in curiosity. Yet, he said nothing, even going so far as to ignore Keith when he saw the Red Paladin peak into the doorway of the throne room. Lotor was too busy playing diplomat for a Queen whose planet was interested in trade relations and drinking tea to notice, but when one of her guards spotted Keith there was nothing Lance could do but go and help try to contain him. 

 

Keith hadn’t seemed too perturbed at first, until Lance’s helmet had gone flying off of his head. And then Keith had went into this crying fit of rage before going full out on him. His moves were sloppy out of anger, and it was easy for Lance to dodge, but he could only dodge for so long before it started to look odd, and so he’d dealt one blow to get Keith on his back, holding him by the throat as Keith gasped for air and kicked at Lance’s armor. 

 

“Where’s everyone else?” He hissed, even though no one was around to hear him. 

 

“Bite me.” Keith spat in his face and Lance grimaced, wiping the spit from his face and glaring down at Keith. 

 

“I’m trying to help.” Lance’s voice pitched up an octave, but he quickly reclaimed his temper - if anyone walked in while this was going on he’d have to go through with it or blow his cover completely. 

 

“Help by doing what? Selling out your family?” 

 

Lance’s grip on Keith loosened as he recoiled, and Keith used the opportunity to sweep Lance’s feet out from under him, sword going straight for his neck. Lance moved just in time for the blade to miss his neck, but then the Blade of Marmora was out too and piercing him through his hand, pinning him to the wall as he screamed in agony. Keith faltered, bayard dropping in confusion when Lance tugged the dagger from his hand and threw it to Keith’s feet, clutching his hand against his stomach in agony. 

 

“Just  _ go  _ do what you were doing you stupid hothead,” he wheezed in annoyance. Keith stared at him in confusion before picking up the blade and running off. 

 

Lotor had seen the loss as a stupid one and Lance had trained for hours and hours, broken bone after bone and had even almost lost one of his fingers. He would’ve passed out of fatigue, if they hadn’t been pumping him with straight quintessence to keep him running and training. Lance’s mind had been hazy and wired unpleasantly for weeks.

 

So technically, Keith hadn’t kicked his ass. Lance had let him go, and now Lance was paying for it in a way that he hoped wouldn’t kill him. 

 

“Agh!” He tensed as one of the needles went into the base of his spine. “I’ve been given quintessence for weeks now. How is this any different?” The doctor strapped the mask onto his face, and Lance glanced down at it curiously, eyes crossing to get a look at the purple plexiglass. 

 

“The dosage is more gradual and laced with sedative and other drugs whose names don’t translate into common.” The doctor with the clipboard motioned for the other to step out of the pod, and once she was out the glass closed around Lance. He took a deep breath, trying to stop his rising heartbeat from going out of control as liquid began to fill the pod. “Are you okay in there, Lance?” The doctor asked, and Lance nodded. “Alright… we’re going to stream the quintessence first to make sure the stream isn’t too intense for you. It should only tingle a little. Any more and give us a thumbs down.” 

 

Lance shut his eyes, and he was vaguely aware of another sensation travelling through him from the needles poking into his skin. It sent a pleasant tingle through his limbs, and after a couple moments to see if the sensation would escalate - it didn’t - he gave the doctors a thumbs up, feeling the liquid in the pod rush passed his ears. 

 

“Good. We’ll give you the sedative now. We’re monitoring you for brain activity as well, so don’t worry.” 

 

It was too late for that. Lance was already worrying, but the sedative quickly took hold of him and soon enough he was asleep. 

 

It was a fitful sleep, filled with fever dreams and bad memories. The torture chamber in the Xarcadian Galaxy, being dragged down the hallway and chained to the table, tortured for information about Voltron and whipped with electrical charges every time he refused to open his mouth. Deprived of food and water, throwing up nothing but bile, tortured again and again. And the relief of Lotor’s ship, quintessence coursing through his veins and the other Galra soldiers laughing at his jokes and his fellow soldiers beating him bloody and purple, until he couldn’t function anymore and he was charged up with more quintessence to try the sequence again and again until he got it right. The betrayal on Keith’s face when Lance’s helmet had gone flying off of his head, the pain in his hand from Keith stabbing him, the pain in his ribs from when they’d gotten kicked in during sparring, the whip, the knife, and quintessence. Chocolate, so much chocolate. Too much chocolate. Chains, handcuffs, flashing of electricity and quintessence-

 

“ _ Lance _ . Lance, it’s okay, wake up. You’re safe here.” 

 

Lance’s eyes flashed open as if on command, staring up into Lotor’s wide, concerned eyes. It brought no relief, and his mind reached out to Blue in a desperate attempt at comfort, but she was too far and he sobbed pathetically, feeling withdrawn and exhausted. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Lotor was cradling him in his arms, but even with the warmth Lance felt like the gesture was empty. 

 

“A towel, sir.” One of the doctors handed Lotor a towel and he wrapped it around Lance, who was still wet from the liquid in the pod and was now on the floor. 

 

“Are you alright?” Lotor placed a hand on Lance’s cheek and prompted him to look up into his face, but all Lance did was draw the towel up over his face to hide, not able to act like he was unaffected. Lotor sighed. “That’s enough, then. Patch him up, please. He needs some proper rest.” Lance let Lotor hold him to his chest, face still buried in the towel as the doctors unhooked the needles from his skin and placed bandages over the puncture wounds, even though they were insisting that they would heal up in no time.

 

“Shall we go again when he has recovered?” One of them asked. Lotor hesitated long enough that Lance figured it was probably a yes. 

 

“I will think about it. For now, work with the data you have.” Lotor stood to his feet, and Lance clung to his arms, still curled up on the floor. “Can you stand?” Lance shook his head, and Lotor leaned down to pick him up with ease. “Clean up in here, would you?” His demand still managed to come off dismissive, and then he was off carrying Lance to his quarters. Once there, he set Lance on the large bed, taking the towel and scrubbing his hair dry before pulling the blankets up and over him. 

 

Lance curled up on his side, burying his face into his pillow and swallowing thickly, not wanting to fall back asleep even though he could feel exhaustion tugging at him again. 

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you so hard…” Lotor rubbed at his back, and for the first time since he woke up Lance was able to relax slightly, tension in his body slowly dissipating with every slow stroke. 

 

“Yes you did,” he muttered without a thought. Lotor laughed, so genuinely that Lance picked his head up from the pillow to look at him. His eyes were crinkled at the corners in amusement. 

 

“Perhaps I did. But I didn’t mean to hurt you while I was doing it.” He squeezed Lance’s arm tenderly, and then decidedly kept his hands to himself. Lance missed the comfort of the contact immediately. 

 

“It was just nightmares. It’s not like you actually hurt me.” He was picking up a few things from Lotor, and being dismissive was one of them. Lotor stared at him in confusion, blinking slow, and then he seemed to smile in sad realization. 

 

“You shouldn’t underestimate or brush off mental wounds, Lance. Often times they’re worse than physical ones.” It sounded like a warning, or perhaps foreshadowing, but Lance’s hazy brain didn’t stay stuck on it for too long. “But, it’s time for you to rest. I’ll let you sleep.” 

 

Lance let his eyes slip shut, deciding that  _ yes, it was definitely time to sleep.  _

 

* * *

 

Lance stared idly at the ceiling, hands behind his head as he attempted to mentally conjure up the energy needed to leave bed. It wasn’t going very well. His therapy appointment loomed over him like an intimidating beast. Typically, he managed to go in feeling fine and well, able to convince Zenaida he was doing better and better, that what he was dealing with wasn’t as bad as it was. There were a few slip-ups here and there, but typically he’d maintained that he was doing well, even if he still kept going back every week to appease his parents.

 

But getting out of bed was hard, and getting in the shower was harder, and actually taking his bike to the appointment felt more exhausting than usual, and once he was in the office he felt about ready to break down, in the chair and avoiding looking at Zenaida as she glanced over her notes. She looked comfortable, curled up in her chair with her feet on the new leather, long hair framing her face. Lance had tried flirting with her multiple times to get out of talking about sensitive subjects, and while she flushed in embarrassment she always kept her face carefully professional. He wondered what it would take to truly ruffle her feathers. 

 

“How are you today, Lance?” She still asked, even though it was apparent that he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He grunted, in hopes that it would suffice as an answer, but she gave him a careful smile, the way she always did when she wanted him to elaborate. 

 

“I’ve been better. Just been thinking a lot, lately.” He didn’t explain further, stubborn, and so Zenaida looked back down at her notes, pushing her glasses up her nose. 

 

“You never finished telling me about Thalia. She seemed to be affecting you positively last time we spoke of her.” The last thing Lance wanted to talk about was Thalia. “You went to your friends’ wedding with her, correct?” 

 

Lance nodded, chewing at his lip and trying to conjure up some way to blow it off, or a story he could easily stick to without flubbing it up if she ever brought it up again. “I would hardly call Marisol my friend. We’ve hardly talked since I was twelve.” Maybe focusing on Marisol was the right way to go. 

 

“Your mother did say you were focusing on getting into the Galaxy Garrison.” Lance had talked about it at length - it was the only thing that felt safe, even if what happened afterwards he couldn’t talk about. “She also mentioned they’d filed a missing person's report.” 

 

Lance had tried to avoid the subject many times, but it seemed like he wasn’t about to get away from it. Zenaida sighed, almost inconspicuous but not quite, when Lance avoided her gaze. She set her pen down and folded her hands on top of her notepad. 

 

“Lance… I know they can’t be good memories, but you survived them, and surviving them is the first step to recovery. But the next step is being able to acknowledge them. This is a safe space here. I’m not going to judge or dismiss you. When you’re ready to talk about them you can.” Zenaida genuinely believed what she was saying, smiling at him in reassurance in a way that made Lance want to pour his heart out immediately. But that’s the point, wasn’t it? She was trained to make people open up. If Lance could survive torture without opening his mouth then he could survive this woman smiling at him. 

 

“They’re not all bad memories,” he said without thinking. Zenaida still hadn’t picked up her pen, head tilting to the side as she considered him. 

 

“We can talk about the good things if you’d like,” she offered. 

 

Lance opened his mouth, and then closed it, thinking. “I don’t think I can talk about the good without mentioning the bad…” Zenaida nodded at him sympathetically, waiting for him to make the next move. 

 

He told her everything. 

 

Instead of relieved he only seemed stressed. Lance could see the careful neutrality on Zenaida’s face as he’d rambled on and on, and Lance knew that it was hard for her to remain straight faced instead of showing her confusion and alarm on her face. When his session had concluded, she'd spoke of thinking about options for him, and that she’d discuss those options at length with him the next week, and Lance had only nodded before leaving to ride his bike home. 

 

He felt wound up and mildly horrified; what were the options Zenaida was thinking about for him? What did she think of him now that he probably sounded like a crazy person? Lance didn't even properly lock up his bike when he got home, just rushed inside and went up the steps, wandering to Valeria’s room to see if Keith was there, but he must have still been at work. Lance sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket and sending a frantic text to ask what time Keith could be home. 

 

_ i get off in an hour.  _

 

And then another text. 

 

_???  _

 

Lance didn't reply, just flopped onto Valeria’s bed and buried his face into her pillow. It didn't smell like her anymore; it smelled like the shampoo from Lance and Daniel’s bathroom and Keith’s cologne. He stayed there stubbornly, trying to get a grip on himself. 

 

Lance could hear the door to his parents’ bedroom door open, and then he could hear his mom’s voice greeting none other than his therapist. Lance noted that his mom paused in Valeria’s doorway to look at him as she spoke, and then she was wandering down the steps, still conversing. The conversation thus far hadn’t given anything away. 

 

He stood up and closed the door, and then collapsed back onto the bed, trying to shut out the world and forget everything that happened at therapy was a reality. 

 

Thirty minutes later Keith wandered into the room, eyebrows drawn together as Lance removed his face from the pillow to look at him. 

 

“Hey. What's going on? Your mom seems kind of worried.” Keith wandered over and sat on the bed next to Lance, hand winding into Lance’s hair. Lance sighed, letting his head drop back onto the pillow and avoiding looking at Keith. 

 

“I told my therapist everything.” They both seemed to be holding their breath as soon as the words were out between them. “She called my mom, so you can guess how it really went.” 

 

Keith scowled, glancing away from Lance to glare at the floor. “Well, what did she say to you about it?” 

 

Lance sighed, turning over onto his back. Keith retracted his hand, but Lance gripped onto it, some of their fingers intertwining. It was awkward, their hands just sitting between them, but the realness grounded Lance too much to let go. 

 

“Not much. She said we’d discuss options next week.” 

 

That didn't seem to sound good to Keith either, because his scowl deepened further. “... Everything will be fine. It always is.” 

 

“Is it?” Lance pulled his hand away and sat up, sighing heavily as he tucked his knees to hug them against his chest. 

 

Keith hesitated before nodding his head. “We’re alive, aren't we? We’re here.” Lance sighed.  

 

“It doesn't feel that way this time, Keith.” It was quiet for a while. Keith stood up and toed his shoes from his feet, leaving them at the door before shrugging his flannel off of his shoulders. 

 

“Are you going to sleep before work?” He grabbed a book from the nightstand - one from Valeria’s shelf - before climbing onto the empty space of the bed. Lance sighed, chewing at his lower lip anxiously. 

 

“Uh-... I should…” He trailed off uncertainly when Keith made eye contact with him. “Do… do you mind if I stay here?” Keith’s eyebrows went up in surprise, and Lance was sputtering immediately. “I-I just don't feel like being alone after today but it isn't a big deal or anything I can leave. It's not like-” 

 

“Lance, it’s fine.” Keith cut him off abruptly. “Of course you can stay.” 

 

_ Of course.  _

 

Lance almost thought it was too casual, but Keith’s cheeks were red and he looked five seconds from imploding, so he supposed he wasn't the only one that was flustered. He let out a deep breath, lying down and curling up on his side, toes restless as he tried to assess his distance from Keith. Keith, meanwhile, cracked open the book he'd picked up and had began reading, except he never turned the page so Lance wondered if he was even able to focus. 

 

After a moment, Lance wiggled himself closer so that his forehead was pressed against Keith’s hip. The contact immediately made him relax, and as if waiting Keith’s fingers wound into his hair. Lance’s breath slowed, Keith’s fingers lulling him to sleep. 

 

He was vaguely aware of Keith turning the page.

 

The days began to blur together, and Lance was in a constant state of awfully concealed anxiety. He could easily just not go to his therapist appointment - he could easily just stop going and never show up again. Of course though, Zenaida would probably call his mom since she was listed as an emergency contact to ask if he was alright, so he knew that wouldn’t fly. He could just  _ leave _ , tell Keith that he needed this Eat Pray Love trip immediately and that they should go somewhere far, far away from Varadero. Maybe they could go see Hunk and Pidge, maybe they could go visit Shiro. 

 

“When are you guys done with school?” It was probably too soon to ask; he hadn’t talked to Keith, he hadn’t told his parents he was planning on going anywhere, and yet all he could think about was going somewhere else. Hunk hummed, looking up from whatever notes he’d been taking to watch Lance in the monitor. 

 

“Not for another three weeks. But, Pidge and I are staying here and taking summer classes so that we can get on track.” He tapped his chin with his pen, tongue sticking out as he began to scribble on paper again. “Why do you ask?” 

 

Lance fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket, shrugging his shoulders. “Just thinking… I’m going to leave with Keith and it’s been a while since I saw you guys.” 

 

Hunk’s scribbling paused, looking up at Lance with narrowed eyes as he tried to assess the look on Lance’s face. “You  _ do  _ know travelling with Keith requires like… getting along with him.” Lance flushed. 

 

“Keith and I get along fine!” He squawked, pressing the pillow in his lap to his face to hide his blush. “And anyways… it isn’t like we’ve never lived in the same vicinity before. Now it’s just… different context.” He tried to wave it off, but Hunk was still glaring at him warily. 

 

“Okay, something happened and you’re not telling me.” Lance thought about that night on the water; how Keith had kissed him out of the blue, how Lance had  _ wanted him to _ .

 

“Uh-...” Hunk raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. “Keith kissed me,” Lance finally blurted out, red up to his ears as Hunk pushed himself away from his desk to spin in his chair. 

 

“Finally!” He cheered, and then reached for his phone. “I’m telling Pidge.” 

 

“Hunk!” Lance groaned, burying his face back into his pillow, but it was too late. Hunk was already typing away at his screen and sending the text off to Pidge. 

 

“Sorry, man. This is something we bet on a long time ago.” Hunk pulled himself back up to his desk, eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. Lance wanted to be mad at him, but it was difficult, considering how happy Hunk looked. “How’d it happen?” He leaned on his elbows, notes seemingly forgotten. 

 

“Uh… I took him out on my paddle board in the middle of the night.” It sounded dumb now that he was saying it. “And, I don't know. We were just talking and then he kissed me. And then  _ ruined  _ it by shoving me off the board.” Lance glared at his pillow. Hunk looked like he was watching a romance movie as he listened, humming in interest. 

 

“That sounds nice. Did you tell him that you're basically in love with him?” 

 

“I am not!” He might be. 

 

“You could recognize him from the back of his head, Lance.” Hunk was obviously unconvinced. Lance sputtered, at a loss for words and choking on nothing when there was a knock on his bedroom door. He gave permission to come in, and then Keith was peeking in. 

 

“Hey. Dinner’s ready.” 

 

“Hi, Keith!” The smile on Hunk’s face was saying too much, and Lance glared at him in warning as Keith wandered into the room to peek over Lance’s shoulder. 

 

“Hey, Hunk. How’re you?” Keith rested his chin on Lance’s shoulder. Lance felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, and Hunk’s shit-eating grin wasn't helping. 

 

“I’m doing great! Heard you guys are coming to visit.” Hunk leaned back in his chair. 

 

“Huh?” Keith frowned in confusion, and then seemed to catch on. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice. I guess we can talk about it more in depth later.” He pinched Lance’s side, and Lance squirmed away from him, face hot as Keith walked away. “Don't take too long.” Lance threw his pillow at Keith’s head. It hit its target but Keith hardly reacted, just turned to smile at him before closing the door behind himself. 

 

Lance rounded on Hunk, grimacing as Hunk’s warm laughter travelled through the speakers. “Aw, you guys are cute.” 

 

“We haven't even talked about anything since he kissed me. We’re not cute.” Lance crossed his arms over his chest. Hunk sighed and shook his head, smile still present on his face. 

 

“It’s only a matter of time. Anyways, don’t keep your boyfriend waiting. I should get back to studying.” Hunk picked up his pen again as if to prove his point, and Lance sighed, scratching the back of his head uncertainly. “... Lance?” 

 

“No, you're right. It’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you later, man.” 

 

Hunk pursed his lips. “If you're sure… keep me updated.” 

 

“No.” Hunk’s laughter still rang in his ears once he hung up. 

 

_ to: Hunk  _

 

_ I’m just kind of afraid that things aren’t going to work out. For better or worse Voltron has made me who I am and I really can’t picture myself being with someone I can’t confide in about it. Which is why being with Keith kind of scares me… I don’t want to mess it up. I’m afraid of being alone again. I’m afraid of not being with Keith in particular, too. Some part of me feels silly even worrying about it, since I have other stuff to worry about. Like the thing with my aunt’s boyfriend and my brother and my therapist and… yeah.   _

 

_ Anyways, thanks for talking to me today. I’m gonna go to bed. Love you. _

 

_ from: Hunk _

 

_ It’ll be alright, man. Just take one thing at a time. I can’t exactly speak for Keith, but regardless Pidge and I will always be here. You don’t have to be alone.  _

 

_ Any time. Sweet dreams!  _

 

* * *

 

“I know you’re big on the diplomacy first thing, Princess, but these people…” Lance grimaced slightly as he set Blue on autopilot, looking back at where she was clutching onto his seat. She didn’t seem concerned, looking at the tablet in her hand and taking in the notes she’d made about the planet they were about to land on. “These people are kind of broke. They were living off of scraps for so long that they didn't even hesitate when Lotor came in to offer them trade deals. I don't know if trying to get them to join the alliance is even the right choice…” 

 

Ultimately, Voltron had nothing to offer this planet but a chance at peace, and no prosecution if and when Voltron finally beat the Galra Empire. But Lance didn't see how any of that was going to be worth it for them. It probably wasn't going to be. Lance isn't sure why they agreed to this meeting in the first place. 

 

“So they joined the Galra Empire for resources? What kind?” Allura didn't look up from her tablet. 

 

“Everything.” Lance’s eyebrows pulled together. “They were living in a desert wasteland with no technology to build new architecture, no livestock or crops to feed anyone anymore. Making them break off of Lotor isn't the best choice for them.” 

 

Allura finally looked up from her tablet then, but she didn't seem very concerned. “Voltron-”

 

“Brings peace and hope, blah blah blah. Yeah, I know. I’ve heard it a thousand times, Allura. But can you consciously deprive these people of resources they need to make it, is what I’m asking…” There was silence between them, and silence over the coms. Sometimes it escaped Lance that his dynamic with Allura wasn't the same as it had been with Prince Lotor, that she didn't always take kindly to being interrupted and that they hardly got along in the first place. 

 

“I think what Lance means is-” 

 

“I know what he means, Shiro. Thank you.” Allura stared him down, but Lance didn't flinch back, fingers ready at his console as if he were prepared for her to send him back. “We both know that if these people ever stop being able provide and keep their end of the agreement they'll get destroyed.” They'd both watched it happen. Lance had been at Lotor’s side when he’d given the command, had been too much of a coward to watch something he’d failed to stop. 

 

“Joining the alliance suggests they stop trading materials. They’ll get destroyed regardless. And we can't be here to stop it when someone comes for them. Unless you're willing to negotiate we’re not going to get anything out of this.” Lance turned to stare down at the planet as they broke the atmosphere, turning off autopilot and glancing at the map. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” Blue seemed worried too, her distress permeating the back of skull and turning into a stress headache as they neared the planet’s surface. 

 

“Everything will be alright.” Allura smiled, trying to be reassuring. It wasn't working, at least not to Lance. He landed Blue at the designated landing bay, trailing after Allura with his bayard drawn despite her instructions to keep it concealed. She was obviously displeased, muttering over the coms that Lance had muted as Red and Black landed next to Blue. 

 

“Princess Allura. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The leader, Peyry, greeted them. Her eyes lingered on Lance, like she recognized him but couldn't remember where from, but Lance remembered her clearly. 

 

Peyry wasn't a bad person. None of the people on this planet were, but Lance dreaded the measures Allura might take. Typically, when they got to this bit planets were on the verge of being destroyed, or were well off enough on their own that disrupting trade or occupation wasn't a big deal. But Lance had a clear image of what this place had looked like during his first visit, and he knew Peyry wasn't going to put her people at risk for the sake of “peace”. They needed food and their liberation wouldn't be beneficial. 

 

“Thank you for meeting with us. I hope you don't mind that I brought some of the paladins with me.” Allura didn't address them until Shiro and Keith were standing at Lance’s side. Peyry only had eyes for Lance though, confusion written on her face. 

 

“No, of course not. Please, come in.” She motioned for Allura to follow her into the Capitol Building. 

 

It wasn't a castle, or anything even close. It was falling apart, hardly bigger than a two bedroom house, and Allura’s smile seemed to be strained. Lance figured everything was dawning on her. 

 

“Interesting infrastructure…” Allura was trying to be subtle, but it wasn't working. Peyry only smiled, sitting in the big, squishy chair in the corner and motioning for Allura to do the the same in the chair opposite. 

 

The guards in the room were huge, burly women with serious eyes and no time for formalities. Lance had managed to get a smile to crack on the one with short hair last time, but she looked relatively preoccupied. She looked how Lance felt; like she had a bad feeling. 

 

“You’ve grown since I last saw you.” Peyry addressed Lance, and Lance bowed his head, feeling on edge. 

 

“Nice to see you, again.” The glint in her eye spoke volumes, but Lance still said nothing else. 

 

“I've come here to make you an offer.” Allura interrupted, and Lance chose that moment to block their conversation out. Keith and Shiro seemed tense as well, like Lance’s energy was rubbing off on them. Lance wandered over to the window, eyebrows pulling together as he saw a couple vehicles pull up a few hundred feet from the Capitol Building, bodies piling out. 

 

He nudged Keith, who looked out of the window for but a moment before he was muttering into the coms to talk to Pidge and Hunk, one hand steady on Lance’s arm.

 

“Well, that didn't take very long…” Shiro murmured, and Lance nodded in agreement. “Princess, we have to go.” 

 

Allura glanced back at them, and upon seeing their faces she immediately stood to her feet, giving a courteous bow. “Thank you for having us.” 

 

Lance glanced out the window, but the soldiers were fast approaching. “Go, I’ll cover you.” He let Shiro, Allura, and Keith leave first, glancing back to look at Peyry. Nothing in her expression was giving her away; it’s probably why Lotor had taken a liking to her, because she was giving Lance a pleasant expression even as he turned to run out of the house. 

 

“They’re going for the Capitol Building. Should we provide Peyry with an escort?” Allura’s voice travelled over the coms. As soon as Lance emerged gun fire was coming towards him and he backtracked, hiding behind the doorframe. “Lance, are you alright?” 

 

Lance glanced back down the hallway; Peyry was going through the back entrance with one of her guards, the other was coming towards him with her weapon drawn. “Uhm… yeah, I think I might be in trouble, though.” He’d just managed to draw his shield when her dagger flew in his direction, blocking its path to his heart. 

 

“Did you know you’re a fugitive, Deputy?” The guard asked, and Lance felt like he should’ve guessed it would be the case. 

 

“I’m aware.” He backed out of the doorway, ducking under a blast from a gun not too far away. There were already people blocking his path back to Blue, and he grimaced as he turned in place, trying to make a plan of escape. Going straight towards Blue was a death trap, but then again so was going everywhere else. 

 

“Pidge, Hunk, we need that backup. Keith- Keith get back here!” Shiro’s voice cracked over the coms, and Lance tried not to let the way his heart propelled itself into his throat affect his thought process. He began to shoot everyone who crossed his path, in their shooting arm and then their leg so that he wouldn’t have to bother with them anymore. 

 

“Lance!” Keith’s voice travelled over the coms and right into his ears, and Lance turned his attention towards him in relief. “Duck left!” Lance rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the huge war hammer that came down in the spot he was at previous. 

 

Peyry’s guard was back, sinister smile on her face as she swung the hammer with strength Lance had never seen out of anyone before, her hulking biceps flexed as the hammer swung towards him again. He blocked it with his shield, getting propelled back towards Keith, thankfully, but right into another line of gunfire. He ducked under the shield, lungs heaving as his adrenaline pumped almost too hard for him to handle. 

 

“Shit…” He stepped out of the way of another gunshot, chewing at his lip as he continued to make his way towards Keith. The path towards Red wasn’t blocked. 

 

“She’s coming back, Lance!” Keith warned, and Lance turned just in time deflect the hammer with his shield, knocked back a few paces and tripping over a dead body that had his gut churning. Another dagger came flying his way, but then Keith was in front of him, the blade bouncing off of his bayard and into the dirt. 

 

“Thanks,” Lance breathed. There was still no time for conversation, because the guard was on them again, and she barely seemed to react to every shot that Lance threw at her, her reptilian skin fizzing and then absorbing the heat from his laserfire. He reached down to pick up the blade that was in the dirt, just managing to slide out of the way when her hulking hammer came down again in the dirt. Keith was on her in a moment, but she was fast, dodging every slice from his blades and waiting for an opening to swing her hammer again. 

 

Lance saw the moment the opportunity arose, at the same time she did. A swing too wide - her hammer would hit Keith before his sword could hit her. 

 

He was jumping in the way before he could even thoroughly think about it. 

 

His vision blacked out with the impact, ears ringing and buzzing as he flew and then collapsed into a heap. He thought he could maybe hear his name, but he wasn’t sure. His head swam, painful and hot as he settled in the desert sand.

 

_ “Lance… Lance…  _ Lance…?” Lance startled awake, clutching onto the arm that had shaken him out of his nightmare - his memory - and sitting up as his eyes adjusted in the dark. 

 

“Hey, hey. It’s alright, it was just a dream. Are you alright?” Keith’s soothing voice calmed him down, and through the dark he could finally recognize Keith’s silhouette. Lance took a deep breath, lying back down even though he was still gripping at Keith’s flannel.

 

“Yeah… yeah, I think I’m okay.” He was now that he was awake at least, with Keith here. 

 

“Okay… I could hear you from Val’s room so I just wanted to make sure…” Keith made to pull away but Lance didn’t let go - just pulled harder until Keith was forced to climb onto the bed to accommodate, settling down next to Lance with his arm under his head and knees nudging Lance’s. Lance wondered if this was going to be a thing; sleeping next to Keith. He hoped it would be. 

 

“Remember that time you cradled me in your arms?” Lance asked. Keith laughed, more breath than anything else. 

 

“Do you?” 

 

Lance pouted, and then nodded his head. “One of the times, yeah. I cradled you once, too.” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Thick, heavy silence. Lance turned over so that he was facing away from Keith, scooting until he could feel Keith’s chest against his back. He let Keith wiggle a foot between his ankles, taking a shaky breath as Keith’s arm draped over his middle, hand searching for Lance’s to intertwine their fingers together. Lance’s heartbeat was loud in his ears. “I’ll remember this time,” he breathed. 

 

“Okay,” Keith whispered back. 

 

At work the next night, Lance couldn’t settle on one emotion; he was caught between being happy about everything going on with Keith, and he was paranoid about his therapy session the day after. He was floating between anxiety and happiness as he cleaned, music playing over the speakers as he waited for people to come by so that he would have something to do besides deep clean the whole stand. He was just getting to checking the dates of all the products in the refrigerator when Thalia walked up to the window, french braids swinging as she leaned on the counter. 

 

“Hey, Thalia,” he greeted, moving from kneeling in front of the fridge to wash his hands. 

 

“Hey. How’s everything going with Keith?” She got right into it, as if she had no regard for what had gone on between her and Lance previously. He pursed his lips, blush overtaking his face as he pumped syrup into her cup and placed it under the espresso machine. 

 

“Uhm… everything is good, I think…” He trailed off. He  _ still  _ hadn’t talked to Keith about how he felt, and even if it might’ve been kind of obvious from the way he’d been acting he still felt like he should say something. 

 

“You think?” Thalia’s nails clicked on the counter as she watched him pour milk into her cup. 

 

“Yeah. Things are fine, but we haven’t… actually talked anything out.” Lance topped off her drink and slid it over to her. She scanned her watch and grabbed the cup, taking a sip as she hummed. 

 

“Well, I’m sure everything will be okay when you do finally talk,” she smiled. Lance leaned against the counter, chewing at his lip in thought. 

 

“How’ve you been, though?” She seemed surprised he’d asked. Lance wondered when it had gotten to be that way. 

 

“Oh. Uhm… I’m fine. Kind of worn out from work. But not bad.” It was a two-dimensional answer, but Lance didn’t want to push her to say anything else. “Anyways, you seem happier now that Keith’s here. I’m glad.” She removed herself from the counter. 

 

“Uh…” Lance was unsure of how to respond to that; did he feel happier sometimes? Yeah. All the time? Definitely not. 

 

“I just… uh… you deserve to be happy, you know? I know you’ve been through a lot. It must be nice to have someone who gets it.” She tapped her fingers against her cup. 

 

“Oh…” Lance glanced away from her, looking down at his feet. “Yeah… thanks, Thalia.” He chanced a glance up at her. She smiled. 

 

“Of course. I’m gonna head home. Have a good rest of your shift, okay?” She waved, and Lance waved back, watching her put her cup in the basket of her bike before climbing on and riding away. 

 

* * *

 

_ No, no, no, no, no.  _

 

Lance panted as he ran up the steps of the front porch, fumbling with his keys and struggling to get the door unlocked before almost falling into the house, panting for breath and shaking as he threw his keys in the bowl and ran up the steps and walking into his room. He pulled out a duffle bag, tears and sweat blurring his vision as he started to root around his closet. 

 

“Lance?” The door to Val’s room opened and Keith peaked around the wall separating their rooms, eyebrows pulled together. 

 

“O-oh, you’re home.” Lance wiped at his face with his long sleeves. 

 

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Keith stepped into Lance’s room and glanced down at the duffle bag and the clothes sitting out, waiting to be packed. 

 

“They want to institutionalize me.” Lance blurted out immediately, and Keith’s eyebrows went up. “Because I punched Miguel and I want to die all the time and of course no one’s ever going to believe me about Voltron unless it suddenly decides to wake up from whatever weird coma it’s in and comes here and I just-.” Lance’s hands went into his hair, and he sputtered as he tried to get a grip on himself. “I can’t  _ be here anymore,  _ Keith. I thought I would be happy to be home but I just traded being homesick for feeling crazy.” Keith sighed, stepping up to Lance and taking his wrists. 

 

“You’re not crazy.” He frowned, gently prying Lance’s fingers from his hair. 

 

“They don’t know that.” Lance took in a shuddering breath as Keith wiped his tears away with his flannel. 

 

“Well, no,” Keith sighed. “Come on, let’s get you packed, then.” He stepped away from Lance and went to the clothes Lance had already thrown out of his closet and began folding them. Lance watched him with confusion written on his face, sniffling. 

 

“What are you doing?” He wandered back over to his closet though, pulling out clothes with less urgency than before. 

 

“You were packing because you want to leave, right?” Lance nodded. “Then let’s go.” Keith motioned for him to get a move on, and Lance stared at him wide-eyes. 

 

“R-Right now?” Suddenly he was questioning himself. He couldn’t just  _ leave _ , but Zenaida had already talked to his parents - they’d said if she felt it was best and would help him the most then to talk to Lance about putting him in an institution. But Lance didn’t want it, and he didn’t want to be forced into it either, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he blew up and ended up there regardless. 

 

“Only if you want.” Keith straightened up, but was still folding. 

 

“Where are we going?” Yet, Lance was still throwing clothes at Keith so that he could fold them and pack them into the duffle bag. 

 

“We’ll figure it out.” Keith shrugged. It wasn’t a very reassuring answer, but Lance accepted it anyways. It only took them five minutes to pack - Lance didn’t have many clothes that fit anymore, and he didn’t see the point in packing things he knew he wasn’t going to wear. He went to the bathroom, grabbing his toiletries and tossing them into the bag, heaving a deep sigh as he really started to think about this. 

 

Keith was ready to leave with him at the drop of a dime, but could Lance really leave his family behind for some adventure with an unforeseeable end? No, more than that… this just didn’t entirely feel like home anymore. No place did; nothing felt like being in the communal space of the castle, or shining Blue for bonding time, or hitting the training deck even if he got his ass kicked, out amongst the stars in deep space. 

 

But Keith felt like home. Keith felt like nights passed out on the couch after staying up too late, and like stumbling out of the cryopod into familiar arms, and gloved hands pulling him to his feet after a long training session. 

 

As he grabbed all of the money from his savings jar, he wondered if he should leave a note, glancing around his room and grabbing an old notebook from his desk. He scribbled onto it, chewing at his lip. 

 

_ I’m sorry. I can’t be here anymore but I’m safe and with Keith. Love you.  _

 

He scrawled a heart underneath and then wandered into Valeria’s room, taking down the picture of him from the airport and putting it into his wallet before making his way down the steps. 

 

Keith was waiting by the door, phone out and eyebrows pulled together. His backpack was over his shoulders, stuffed full as the day he’d gotten there. When Lance stepped up to him Keith looked up and shoved his phone into his pocket. 

 

“Are you sure about this?” 

 

Lance wasn’t. “Sort of…” He glanced down at his shoes. “Just because I’m leaving now doesn’t mean I can’t come back…” He was trying to reassure himself. His parents had told him he’d always be welcome home. He wondered if that still applied if he just left without warning. Keith nodded. 

 

“Exactly.” 

 

Lance shut his eyes and took a deep breath, and then grabbed his keys from the bowl. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

 

The cab drive to the airport took way faster than Lance was prepared for. Keith was typing away at his phone the whole time, looking preoccupied. Lance stared out the window, trying not to talk himself out of it. 

 

He was essentially running away with Keith. He was running away with Keith and he hadn’t even talked to him about how he felt. 

 

_ Oh god.  _

 

Lance glanced at the cab driver, then Keith on his phone. Texting Keith about it would be dumb, but he didn’t want to say it out loud in front of their driver. Maybe he should say it later.  _ Oh god.  _

 

Everything at the airport was a whirlwind. Lance didn’t even know where they were going, but apparently Keith had bought them tickets to…  _ somewhere.  _ Lance felt beside himself the entire security check, and then through waiting for their flight, and then the actual flight, somewhere between anxious and exhausted until finally they were landing. 

 

Lance couldn’t seem to snap out of it until he realized where they were. He recognized this airport. He recognized this gate. “... Why are we in Nevada?” He turned to look at Keith, who looked irritated. 

 

“Do you have any better ideas?” He was already walking towards the exit, and Lance trailed after him. Even though Keith had asked, he apparently wasn’t taking any suggestions.

 

“No. No, I’m just… confused.” Lance surrendered. Keith’s expression softened after a moment. Lance wondered if Keith was as nervous about this as he was.

 

“I don’t exactly have anywhere else we can go, but I texted Hunk and Pidge and they’re free after this upcoming week, so we can go and stay with them after this if you want to.” Keith fiddled with the strings on his backpack, and Lance suddenly realized that was probably why Keith had been glued to his phone. 

 

“Yeah. Okay, that sounds nice.” It sounded better than nice. Lance was almost dying for some sense of normality and being back with most of the crew sounded like it would do the trick. “But where are we going now?” As much as Lance had  _ loved  _ the Galaxy Garrison he’s sure that’s not where Keith had meant to take him. 

 

“Nowhere special.” Keith seemed guarded all of a sudden, and Lance’s eyebrows pulled together as he followed Keith outside and into one of the cabs waiting. Keith gave the driver the address, and Lance fidgeted and wondered when would be an opportune time to tell Keith how he felt. It felt like it was going to be more and more inevitable the farther he was getting himself into this. 

 

They pulled up outside of a storage unit. Lance tried not to let the confusion show on his face as he followed Keith down the line of garages, but Keith wasn’t paying much attention to him, just fiddling with his keys until he came up on a unit marked 302. 

 

He swiped the fob over the magnetic reader and then slid the door up and open. Inside was the hoverbike he’d driven when they’d saved Shiro from the Garrison all those years ago. It was collecting dust, the shiny red looking murky. Even still, Keith’s eyes were shining as he stepped inside and swiped his flannel over the mirrors. 

 

“I thought this thing would’ve been left out in the desert, man.” Lance stepped into the unit, swiping his hand over the chrome. It left a bunch of dust on his palm. 

 

“It was. I got it last time I came back here.” Keith climbed on, pressing the the ignition and waiting for it to lift before maneuvering it out of the space. Then he climbed off again, closing up the door to the storage space before motioning to Lance. “Come on, we’ve got a bit of a ride.” He climbed up again, offering a hand out to Lance. 

 

Lance flushed, taking it and letting Keith pull him up onto the seat behind him. 

 

“Hold on tight.” Keith smiled back at him, and Lance tried to contain the butterflies erupting in his stomach as he wound his arms around Keith’s waist. Once he was tight against Keith’s back Keith kicked the bike into gear, and then they were off.

 

Lance didn’t think he’d ever see the shack in the desert ever again, but as he stepped up onto the rickety porch he felt like he’d been propelled back to the start. Keith went into the shed to get the generator running, and then he stepped passed Lance to unlock the door and step inside. Lance hesitated, stepping inside and glancing around. 

 

The wallpaper was falling off of the walls, dust was collecting on all of the surfaces, it was stuffy and hotter than the desert outside. Lance stepped further inside, going over to the one shelf of books and glancing at the titles as Keith turned on the AC unit inserted into the window. 

 

It was just dawning on him that Keith had been staying here for an entire year. That Keith literally had nowhere to go back to. That this was it… whatever  _ this  _ was. It was all that he could offer Lance, and it wasn’t much but Keith was offering it to him anyways. 

 

“I turned everything off when I left and there’s only canned food left. We can go back to get stuff to cook while the refrigerator starts.” Keith shrugged out of his flannel and began to tie his hair up, looking thoughtful as he chanced a glance over to Lance. “... Why are you looking at me like that?” His guard seemed to be going up fast, arms crossing over his chest defensively as if it would protect him from anything Lance might say. 

 

“Like what?” Lance wasn’t sure what kind of expression was on his face. He felt tired, and he felt painful nostalgia settling in his stomach, and an overwhelming amount of affection for Keith. 

 

“Like… I don’t know! However you’re looking at me!” Keith turned and stepped into the next room, looking flustered and disgruntled. Lance sighed, shrugging his jacket off and going after him. Keith was rummaging through the kitchen, eyebrows pulled together. There was hardly anything to go through, but Keith was busying himself anyways. 

 

“Keith…” Keith paused. “I think we need to talk.” Lance watched as Keith slouched, arms going back to their crossed position as he turned to face him. 

 

“Okay,” he agreed easily. That was all he said though, not even making eye contact and looking more meek than Lance was used to. Maybe he should’ve just  _ said it  _ instead of saying that they needed to talk. Lance fidgeted, palms sweatier than the rest of him as he tried to conjure up the right words. 

 

“... I like you, Keith.” He needed to put that out there first. Keith looked up from where he was staring at the ground. “No, more than that. I think I love you, and I think I have for a long time now.” Now Lance was having a hard time keeping the eye contact, cheeks flushed with more than the heat. “I wasn’t looking at you like that because I doubted coming here with you or anything. It was just dawning on me that you were out here by yourself for a long time. It must’ve been lonely.” Keith shrugged his shoulders up, shifting uncomfortably as he tried to understand where Lance was going with this conversation, but; “I don’t know where I’m going with this. I’m just… glad we don’t have to be alone anymore.” Finally, some eye contact. “Do you feel the same way?” 

 

Lance wanted to retract it as soon as the question was out of his mouth; he didn’t have to word it like that. Keith probably couldn’t even follow what he was saying. Still, Keith’s eyes were shining with amusement. 

 

“I kissed you, you dummy.” It was almost defensive, and Lance couldn’t help but laugh at the look of bewilderment on Keith’s face. 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, you did.” He wished Keith would kiss him again. Would it be embarrassing to say that?  _ Probably.  _

 

“We should probably go stock up on some food… do you want to come with?” Keith shrugged his flannel back on, and Lance chewed at his lip before nodding. What was he going to do here? He could read, he supposed, but he was kind of nervous about staying out here by himself. 

 

“Yeah, let’s go.” He grabbed his jacket, chewing back a smile as Keith reached for his hand. Lance was happy to oblige. 

 

Everything felt surreal, between bickering about what food to get and then coming back and watching Keith cook over the hot-plate. Lance guessed his family hadn’t found his note yet, or else his mom would’ve called. He felt guilty, but also relieved, even if there was absolutely nothing to do here but read or listen to audio books or country music. Spending time alone with Keith without anyone hovering over them made things feel different. Lance actually sat on the counter, the way his mother hated, and Keith didn’t even hide the fact that he kept sampling the food with the one fork he was cooking with. Dinner was delicious, and they sat on the pull-out couch as they ate in comfortable silence, poking at each other playfully and stealing food off of each other’s plates. 

 

Finally, there seemed to be nothing else to do but listen to the audiobooks that were stacked on the entertainment console. 

 

“What are our choices?” 

 

“ _ Harry Potter _ .”

 

“Okay…”

 

“And…  _ Harry Potter _ .” 

 

Lance snickered as he tugged the couch out into a bed, glancing over at his shoulder to see Keith blushing. “How about the third one?” Keith nodded, rummaging through the CD’s until he got to the  _ Prisoner of Azkaban.  _ He stuck it into the player, and then helped Lance tug the sheet over the mattress before collapsing onto it. Lance followed suite, lying down beside him as the introduction to the audio book began to play. It was already hot, Lance thought he could live with no blankets, but there were no pillows either. He could just use Keith as a pillow… right? 

 

He stretched his long limbs and tried to get comfortable. Every time either of them shifted the frame creaked. Despite having Keith next to him, and having the narrator’s voice reading in the background, when he fell asleep it wasn’t restful. He kept waking up and shifting, moving into Keith’s arms, and then moving away again, sprawling out to get the most of the AC in the window, until finally he was shocked awake for good with a large crash. Keith jerked awake too, sitting up and grabbing at his knife in confusion. Another boom, rumbling this time, and then distinct sound of rain coming down on the rooftop. Lance stared at Keith with wide eyes before climbing over him and rushing out the door, stopping under the awning to watch the rain pour down onto the vast desert. He just stared for a moment, feeling giddy, before running out barefoot. The rain felt cold on his heated skin but it was much welcomed, and he squirmed out of his shirt to take it in, eyes shut as he tilted his head up to the sky. 

When he opened his eyes he stared up at the sky, watching lightning crackle across the storm clouds, illuminating everything. He turned to see Keith watching him from under the awning, leaning against the pole and watching him the kind of fond smile that took Lance’s breath away. He motioned for Keith to join him, and when he shook his head Lance ran over to him, bounding up the steps to take Keith’s hands and drag him out himself. 

 

“It feels so good,” Lance insisted. Keith shrugged his shoulders up against the rain, pushing his fringe out of his face when it started to flatten against his forehead. Lance grinned at him before letting his hands go to run around in the rain as if he were five years old, jumping into the sandy puddles and hollering as another roll of thunder travelled across the sky. He circled around Keith, who looked somewhere between disgruntled wet kitten and content, humming curiously when Keith caught his hand and pulled him close. 

 

“You’re going to catch a cold if you stay out here for too long,” he laughed quietly. Lance couldn’t care less about getting sick, at least not at the moment. He’d  _ missed  _ rain. He’d missed feeling it on his skin, he’d missed storms, he’d missed  _ all of it.  _

 

“I’ll be okay if you’re taking care of me.” He grinned, pressing his forehead against Keith’s. Keith sighed and shook his head, still holding Lance close. 

 

“Who said I’m going to take care of you?” They both knew that he would. 

 

Lance only kissed him in reply, humming happily as Keith’s hands cradled his face.

 

It was a little uncomfortable, with the wet fabric of Keith’s shirt against Lance’s skin and his hair dripping cold water down his back, but he wouldn’t have changed any of it. He clung to Keith, taking whatever body heat he had left as he deepened the kiss, squawking and pulling away when Keith picked him up bridal style. 

 

“We’re going inside.” Keith carried him up the porch steps and through the threshold, seeming unfazed even as Lance kicked his legs precariously. 

 

“Is this our honeymoon suite?” He didn’t miss Keith rolling his eyes. 

 

“Take me out on a date first.” 

 

Lance gaped at him as he set him down on the mattress and tugged his wet sweatpants off. “Keith, are you  _ flirting with me? _ ” Keith laid Lance’s sweatpants out to let them dry, smirk tugging at his lips. 

 

“It’s taken you this long to notice?” He actually laughed. Lance felt warm and filled to the brim with affection. 

 

“No,” he frowned, tugging at the wet fabric of Keith’s shirt. “Come back to bed…” Keith leaned over him, pressing a light kiss to his lips. 

 

“I’m going to take a shower before I get sick.” He stood up, peeling his shirt off of his form and throwing it into Lance’s face. Lance sputtered, pushing it to the floor and watching Keith’s retreating back before he turned around. “You coming or what?” 

 

Lance had never gotten out of bed so fast.

 

* * *

 

As feeling returned to his limbs and the cold of the cryopod dissipated Lance stumbled out, feeling more groggy than he usually did after a cryopod session as his rubbed at his blurry eyes. It didn’t take him long to trip over his own feet, and when he did a pair of strong arms caught him and held him up from his armpits. Once the blur seemed to dissipate he realized it was Keith. 

 

“Hey, you’re awake.” He looked awful, like he hadn’t slept in days; hair greasy and bags heavy under his eyes. He helped Lance sit down, and then grabbed the blanket that was lying on the floor and wrapping it around Lance’s shoulders. 

 

“How long was I out?” Lance wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. His neck was sore and he felt on the verge of a headache. 

 

“A week.” Keith glanced around, looking like a confused zombie as he wandered over to a half-empty water pouch and bringing it over, holding it out to Lance. 

 

“A week…? What happened?” He didn’t remember. He must’ve been hurt pretty badly if he was out for a week, and if he didn’t even remember why he was in the cryopod in the first place. 

 

“You saved my life. Again.” Keith gave him a weak smile. Lance sighed and glanced away, cheeks going red. “You almost died. You could’ve-.” Keith cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose as he attempted to calm himself down. 

 

“I’m not dead, though.” Lance shrugged his shoulders, as if it were no big deal. Paladins looked out for their own; that had been clear from day one. He’d give his life for Keith over and over if he had to. 

 

“Yeah, because you’ve been pumped with an arsenal of quintessence. If Lotor hadn’t done those experiments on you you wouldn’t have survived,” Keith snapped. Thinking about Lotor just made Lance want to crawl back into the cryopod, but he just gave Keith a weak smile. 

 

“Seems like he did me a favor then, huh?” He laughed weakly. 

 

“He didn’t do shit. You’re on his most wanted list - dead or alive.” Keith wasn’t giving into Lance’s attempts at lightening the subject. Lance sipped at the straw of his water pouch and downed the rest of it in one go, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his suit. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he didn’t say anything, just sat there fidgeting with the empty container and avoiding looking at Keith’s tired expression. “... I know you’re used to doing things alone now, but we’re all here. We’re a team. You don’t have to carry all of us, or even yourself. We’ve got you.” 

 

Lance blinked back tears, staring down at his bare feet. Keith sighed, offering his hands to help Lance up. Lance let Keith pull him to his feet, swaying unsteadily and unsure of if his stomach was churning in hunger or butterflies. 

 

“Come on, let’s get you some more water and some food. I’ll carry you.” Keith turned around, and Lance willingly climbed onto him piggyback style, blanket still wrapped around himself. 

 

“You’re such a gentleman, Keith,” he managed to tease, even through the haze in his brain. Keith grunted. 

 

“Sometimes.”

 

* * *

 

_ Two years later…  _

 

“Lance?” 

 

“In here!” Lance was staring down at a wide range of paint color samples, eyebrows drawn together and lips pursed as he shuffled through them. Keith wandered into the room he was in, humming as he walked over to where Lance was sitting on the floor. 

 

“You  _ still  _ haven’t decided on a color?” He sat down beside him, picking up a color at random and throwing it at Lance’s head. Lance groaned and threw a paint sample back. 

 

“This is an important decision! This is my first real place after leaving home.” Lance rested his head on Keith’s shoulder, drawing one of his knees up. “What color do you like, then?” 

 

Keith stared down at all of the options he was being presented with, and Lance watched him with rapt attention, waiting impatiently. “Uh…” 

 

“See! It’s difficult.” Lance picked up the cards and set them aside, turning so that he was kneeling in front of Keith. “Where did you go, anyways?” He placed his hands on Keith’s knees, hands travelling up to his thighs, touch tender. 

 

“Uh… uhm…” Keith trailed off, eyes diverting from Lance’s and scooting himself away. Lance budged closer stubbornly, eyebrows pulled together. 

 

“... Is something up? You can tell me if something’s wrong.” He tugged at Keith’s jacket, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Seeking affection was his immediate go-to, but Keith was clasping at his hands, as if trying to get him to move away. “We don’t have to pick a paint color. We can even just leave the walls as they are. It’s not a big deal. I-...” 

 

There was something hard in Keith’s pocket. Lance blinked at him owlishly, and Keith scuttered away, but Lance was quick to pounce onto him, pinning him down and shoving his hand into the offending pocket. 

 

“Lance, you’re going to ruin everything!” Keith’s grip on his wrist was tight, but Lance still wiggled his hand into Keith’s pocket regardless, tugging it out and whooping in victory before examining it. 

 

A box. 

 

A jewelry box. 

 

“I-...” Keith choked on his words as Lance stared down at it with inquisitive eyes. Even though Keith had  _ just  _ told him he was going to ruin everything, he cracked open the box anyways, heart thudding loud in his chest as he stared down into the box. 

Inside sat a silver band, simple but with his paladin symbol engraved on top. His breath caught in his throat, and he held the box to his chest as he glared at Keith through his tears. 

 

“Uh… will you marry me?” Keith sputtered, face bright red and looking disgruntled. Lance wondered what he’d had planned, but messing everything up was more of their style anyways. Lance pulled the ring from the box and slipped it onto his finger, staring down at it. 

 

“Of course I’ll marry you.” He threw the box aside and leaned down, squeezing Keith’s cheeks in his hands and planting a sloppy, enthusiastic kiss on his lips. 

 

“I can’t believe you messed everything up,” Keith muttered against him. Lance shrugged his shoulders. 

 

“I mess everything up. It’s taken you this long to notice?” 

 

“... No.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [you can find jenni's beautiful art for this piece here.](https://paladinspride.tumblr.com/post/167023017384/i-had-the-pleasure-of-drawing-for-dwreeds-lovely). be sure to check out their other wonderful stuff, too! thank you for reading. <3

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me about klance on my tumblr @ dwreed !


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